


This War In Me

by jane_x80



Series: That Gray Vault, The Sea [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe, Episode: s09e10 Sins of the Father, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Minor Character Death, NaNoWriMo, NaNoWriMo 2018, Past Child Abuse, Past Underage Sex, Physical Disability, Pre-Slash, U.S. Navy SEALs, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-13 17:39:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 46,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17492294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_x80/pseuds/jane_x80
Summary: A few months after the events ofAn Endless Sea, Gibbs' team encounters yet another case that involves Commander DiNozzo, someone who Gibbs is very attracted to and has a lot of admiration for, even though they have not yet moved forward in their relationship. And this case will be a difficult one for DiNozzo to cope with.Reminder: This is an AU where Tony never became a cop and never joined NCIS.





	1. Prologue: Tony

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smoxen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoxen/gifts).



> This is a sequel to [An Endless Sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15428361), and a gift for smoxen. Thanks for the inspiring pictures and your patience with me and the muse. I hope this sequel of SEAL Tony makes you happy! <3 The inspiration for An Endless Sea was [this gorgeous photo](https://www.cbs.com/shows/watch_magazine/photos/1007232/michael-weatherly-is-one-of-the-hottest-men-on-television/118803/easy-rider/) and I've been toying with the idea of a sequel for all these months.
> 
> I wrote the first 32,000 or so words of this during NaNoWriMo 2018, took December to write the holiday challenges, and finally finished the story this month. It's been a busy couple of months :D
> 
> The song that inspired this is [Father](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZR1U6gpFSXg) by Demi Lovato and this live performance of the song, accompanied only by a piano, this truly made me weep the first two or three times I listened to it. And it made me want to write this story. The title of the story is paraphrased from the lyrics of the song.  
>  _Always wished you the best_  
>  _I, I prayed for your peace_  
>  _Even if you started this_  
>  _ **This whole war in me**_
> 
> I highly recommend listening to this particular performance of the song and please, bring tissues. Seriously.
> 
> Also, for those who might not have, you should definitely read An Endless Sea first before reading this story, or you might miss some things. There are spoilers for s09e10 Sins of the Father and I'll put a link to the transcript of this episode when we get to the spoilery part. And of course, keep in mind that this is an AU where Tony never became a cop and never joined NCIS, and so I twisted Sins of the Father somewhat to fit this AU.

**Prologue: Tony**

It was during times like these that Tony wondered what the hell he was doing with his life. He yanked the Army private down behind their Humvee that was laying on its side, and began firing his MP5 in short, controlled bursts, trying to figure out the directions from which they were being fired upon. He wanted to make his ammo count.

Fuck, he wasn’t even supposed to be _doing_ this anymore, never mind be ambushed and helpless in the middle of the desert, without his team. The driver of the Humvee was dead and now he had this green as fuck private to protect who wasn’t a SEAL, didn’t look like he knew his ass from his elbow, and was about ready to crap his goddamned pants now that they were stuck in this situation. Plus, the kid literally looked to be about half Tony’s age. What even was his life?

He blew out a breath, keeping his eyes open, scanning the area, as the private raised his head and started firing back wildly. He grabbed the kid’s BDU – or whatever it was the Army called their equivalent – collar and yanked him back down.

“Don’t waste your ammo, kid,” he barked at him. “Watch our sixes while I figure some stuff out.”

The private had the audacity to give him an outraged look, as if the older man with the gimpy leg were to be discounted. Tony wished he had time to just pound the shit out of the kid if he thought Tony was any less capable since his injury. He really wished that he’d been able to hide the fact that he had a prosthetic leg but apparently it wasn’t classified on his dossier, so the base commander had known about it which somehow led to the entire base knowing about it. And once the base knew, they started treating him differently. As if he was fragile and someone who couldn’t take care of business. Fuckers. He’ll show this kid who’s fucking fragile.

“That’s an order, Private,” Tony growled at the kid. He made a mental note to ensure that his disability should be classified and redacted, if this was the attitude that he was going to have to deal with going forward. “Shut your fucking cock holster, stay down and fucking watch our sixes so I can focus on what’s in front of us and figure out an extraction plan. This is not my first rodeo, kid.”

“Y-yes, sir,” came the expected, albeit hesitant, answer.

Tony gave him a cold stare before he peeked back up above the Humvee. He scanned the horizon, ducking down when bullets were fired. Alright. He’d seen enough and figured some stuff out. He knew where the shots were coming from now so during the lulls, he fired back, aiming carefully, until he heard a couple of screams of pain signaling that his shots had hit some targets. The young private stared at him, wide eyed, as he ducked back down, grinning triumphantly.

“Sir?” he sounded dazed.

“You watching our sixes?” Tony asked the kid. He had to be fresh out of boot camp, he was so green.

“Sir, yes sir,” the private nodded. The hesitance to obey was gone now.

“Anything yet?”

He shook his head.

“OK, good. Now, there’s a cluster of them at our three o’clock and I need to grab our radio in the vehicle. Can you lay down some cover fire while I go do that?”

The kid gulped and nodded, squaring his shoulders.

“Good man. On three. One. Two. Three!”

The private did as he was told, and Tony managed to haul the door of the Humvee open and, using it as cover, he jumped up and slid in as quickly as he could. He came out a moment later with the dead driver’s MP5, spare clips, and the radio. The private was still firing his weapon, covering Tony.

“Good job, kid,” Tony told him. He handed him the radio and a spare clip. “Radio in our position and request an extraction.”

“Yes, sir,” the private grabbed the radio, obeying Tony without question now.

“And watch our sixes,” Tony hissed, swiveling forward and starting to return fire again.

Fuck his life. He was supposed to be retired from the field. He was supposed to be a fucking pencil pusher now. SEAL Command had decided that he wasn’t field worthy anymore since he’d lost a leg in his last, disastrous field op, and instead of letting him wash out and retire, they’d promoted him. And now this? This was _not_ pushing pencils. This was taking fire with a fucking kid from the Army of all things, after the Humvee hit an IED, and they already had one dead, which really pissed Tony off. SEALs tended to work as a team and right now, he was missing Baez and his men more than he’d ever missed his leg.

“Be SEAL Team Four’s Commander, DiNozzo,” Tony muttered to himself in a mocking tone as he started taking out more of the men firing on them with ruthless efficiency. “You won’t be in the line of fire anymore, and you can continue your career with the SEALs. We’d _hate_ to lose you, DiNozzo. Blah blah blah blah blah blah, DiNozzo. Fucking _hell_ , DiNozzo, you fucking gullible _banana_.”

“Sir?” the kid asked, pausing in his task of radioing the base.

“Nothing, kid,” Tony told him, still carefully returning fire. “Carry out your orders.”

“Yes, sir.”

He returned to his thoughts as he continued to observe where the shots were coming from and taking well placed shots, and continuing to hit some targets.

Why the hell had he taken this assignment? _Why_ had he left his comfortable office at Little Creek to do this, over the resounding objections of the people that he trusted, like Baez and McCloud and Baylor? Oh yeah. Because they ‘needed his expertise’. They had a special prisoner and needed his expertise at interrogation. Because why? Because he was the best. That had been his specialty, interrogation. And interrogation was something even a one legged SEAL could continue to carry out. But the moment he set foot on base – ha! Get it? Set foot, singular? He chuckled mirthlessly to himself – he knew it was going to be a clusterfuck. The prisoner was being kept in a separate, ‘secret’ facility that they had to drive to from the base every day. How secret would that be if people were driving back and forth to this location every day, Tony couldn’t help but question. But of course, he was ignored. He was simply the specialist brought in to interrogate this person, and his concerns on security and their practices were to be brushed aside. He was told that their Very Special Prisoner could not be kept on base for Very Serious Reasons – the capitalizations were the base commander’s, not Tony’s. Apparently, the prisoner was so special their name could not be uttered. Tony took to calling them Voldemort, which annoyed the base commander, which of course pleased Tony to no end.

Tony had put his life in Little Creek on hold to do this. He’d adapted to a life different from what he had ever expected, settled into the new job and was actually enjoying himself. He was taking his new role very seriously and had gotten to know the whole team instead of just his former platoon really well. He could tell that he was earning their trust and that was really important to him. He was happy at work and he even had friends outside of the SEALs that he saw somewhat regularly, and of course by friends he meant Abby and the nuns. He’d even sent Agent Gibbs a friendly text and received an awkward reply or two. Life was good. Life was finally good again after he’d woken up all maimed and shit.

But then he’d come out here to do this. It had taken some time but, on the sixth day of interrogations, he’d finally gotten through to Voldemort. They’d stayed and talked about everything Tony wanted to talk about, and they talked all day and all night. Tony cracked the prisoner and they were singing like the proverbial canary. It felt like a _really_ good day’s work. Tony was tired and ready to hit the rack by the time it was mid-afternoon of the following day and Tony had gotten everything humanly possible out of their prisoner. And of course, on the way back to base, for what should have been the last time, and Tony would have been on the next transport out and been home free, they would _have_ to run over the IED and now they were in this situation with Tony and the greenest private he’d ever seen.

“They flattered me and I fucking fell for it. ‘You have a connection to the prisoner, Commander’. ‘You’re the only one who will be able to get to them’. Fucking hell, DiNozzo,” Tony kept on talking to himself, mocking himself, as he shot back. Well, if these guys had thought that he was going to go down easy, they were sadly mistaken. He was damn well going to take as many of them down with him as he possibly could. He hoped that if this was it for him, that they would at least leave his body here so his men could come get him, because nobody ever got over the ones they never got to bring home. He didn’t want to put Baez and McCloud through that.

And he did take down more than his fair share of the unfriendlies. He threw the MP5 down when he ran out of ammo and clips for it, and unslung the M4A1 from his body, thanking god that Baez hadn’t trusted that he would be safe even though he was only in country for an interrogation and not even supposed to have left the base. Baez had been prohibited from coming on this classified op, but he’d packed Tony’s weapons with the kind of diligence that only a mother would have for their firstborn child’s lunch on their very first day of kindergarten. That is, if a five year old used automatic weapons, k-bars and all kinds of other deadly little goodies. And for that extra care of him, Tony was thankful.

He kept on shooting until he realized that the private had stopped moving beside him. He looked down, hoping that the kid wasn’t dead, and he wasn’t. But he was frozen to the spot, eyes wide with fear, staring behind Tony.

Rough voices yelled at him to lay down his weapon in Arabic and Kurdish. Tony growled under his breath.

“Private, were you or were you not supposed to be watching our sixes?” he asked in a deceptively placid tone.

“Sir, I was trying to work the radio and…”

“Uh-huh. So, the next time I tell you to watch my fucking six, are you gonna do it or are you gonna fucking _cry_ about it like you are right now and just fucking make excuses?” he snarled.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

The voice yelled at them to be quiet.

The kid continued to apologize to Tony.

“Shut the fuck up,” Tony whispered to the boy, putting his M4A1 down, raising his hands, and very slowly turning around. “You get through to the base?”

“Yes, sir,” the kid whispered back.

“Alright, Greenie,” Tony blew out a frustrated breath as they were roughly searched and then zip tied. “My men will come find us. You need to hold out. Tell them nothing but your name and rank. Remember, they’re wicked, and wicked is definitely _not_ good.”

“Did you just make a reference to _The Maze Runner_ , sir?” the kid sounded shocked.

“Even geezers like me can watch YA movies, OK?” Tony snapped back. “Tell them only your name and rank, Greenie. Otherwise, shut the fuck up and wait. My men will come for us.”

“Got it, sir,” the boy swallowed with difficulty, eyes like saucers, full of fear, but also determination.

“You hear me, Private?”

“Sir, yes sir,” came the automatic reply.

This so wasn’t Tony’s favorite part. He hated being taken prisoner and he really hoped that McCloud would be able to stop Baez from coming with them since he didn’t want to be responsible for making poor Spencer a double orphan. But he knew that his men would come. He just needed to wait it out for as long as it would take. It really wasn’t his first rodeo.

Why they were being taken alive instead of killed outright, he didn’t know. But he would do everything he could to make sure that both he and Greenie, the young private made it back alive without compromising anyone else’s safety, Voldemort included, or the security of their classified interrogation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sites I used as references include  
> * Weapons a SEAL would carry: <https://www.tactical-life.com/exclusives/weapons-of-the-us-navy-seals/>  
> * Navy SEAL slang: <https://navydads.ning.com/forum/topics/navy-seals-slang>
> 
> PS I had to use "banana" as an insult from the slang link because it made me giggle. It's terrible, but since I am an Asian woman, I am quite familiar with that term. :D But from a SEAL standpoint -  
> Banana - A student at Basic Underwater Demolition SEAL Training (BUD/S.) Said to be a qualified member of the SEAL Teams, it's a HORRENDOUS insult.


	2. Part One: Gibbs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments! You guys are the best! ❤️ I will be replying to comments when I can. Today ended up being a crazy busy day...
> 
> Here's the next chapter!

**Part One: Gibbs**

Gibbs was in a foul mood. Not that Gibbs not being in a good mood was anything new, but he was in a seriously foul mood and had been for the last week or so. After Claire Darcy and her accomplices were sentenced, and he had given Commander DiNozzo – Tony – his cell phone number and subsequently, he’d exchanged a few texts with the man every so often. 

Gibbs was aware that the limitation with their text exchanges had entirely been on his side and not DiNozzo’s. Gibbs hated texting. They felt too short and too incomplete. They were unsatisfying in every way he could think of. Hell, he _never_ texted. He still had a flip phone, for crying out loud, to discourage this kind of behavior and it had taken him a week to even figure out that he’d received a text, and then he’d had to ask McGee how to retrieve it. And afterwards came an absolutely cringe worthy hour where he had to ask McGee to show him how to text back.

Gibbs loathed it. McGee had been trying to tell him that a smart phone would allow him to text using a QWERTY keyboard instead of depressing each number on his flip phone multiple times to get to the correct letter, but Gibbs was _not_ going to buy a smart phone just so it would enable him to text DiNozzo more easily. Hell, he hadn’t caved in when any of his ex-wives asked him to change anything about himself, why the fuck would he do this for DiNozzo, when the man hadn’t even asked him to do it? It wasn’t like they were going out or anything. They were just friends. Acquaintances. Text buddies. If there was such a thing. Gibbs had to suppress a snort at what he imagine Tony’s reaction would be about the fact that he had called them ‘text buddies’. The man would probably piss himself laughing at him.

In all fairness though, they barely knew each other and Gibbs hadn’t ever gotten to take the man out for a drink or anything. He was not about to make the leap to a smartphone to ease the inconvenience of texting using a flip phone. Even if he was so impatient that he kept missing the right letter and having to cycle through and pressing the buttons repeated to try to get to the correct letter.

But the fact remained that Gibbs was absolutely enjoying the text messages they were exchanging, even if they were ultimately unsatisfying. He lived for them. He wanted more of them. As many texts as he could get from the man. Once he realized that Tony had sent him that first text, all he could do was keep checking his phone like a fucking teenager to see if Tony had texted him back. And that was the problem. That was _exactly_ why Gibbs was in such a goddamned awful mood.

Tony hadn’t texted him in weeks.

He flipped to the last exchange that they’d had, almost a month ago now.

_DiNozzo: Y r u building a boat in ur basement?_

_Me: Where else would I build it?_

_DiNozzo: Garage? Living room?_

_Me: …_

_DiNozzo: RU rolling ur eyes at me?_

_Me: Pretty sure you know the answer to that_.

 _DiNozzo: How do u get it out? Ur boat_.

 _Me: Trade secret_.

_DiNozzo: FU! :)_  
_DiNozzo: How’s that case with the ex?_

_Me: FUBAR_.

_DiNozzo: What else is new?_

_Me: Yeah_  
_Me: Bad enough it involves the fucking FBI, too_.

_DiNozzo: Im inferring some hatred of the other agency?_

_Me: Good inference_.

 _DiNozzo: Im good like that_.

 _Me: Yeah, I got that part_.

_DiNozzo: U say the sweetest things_

_Me: Plus the Feebie is her other ex-husband_.

_DiNozzo: Oooh. The plot thickens!_

_Me: Shut up. There is no plot_.

 _DiNozzo: It’s like some kind of devil’s triangle. The cop, the feeb, and their ex_.

 _Me: If I could only put a bullet in each of their asses. It would make me a happy man_.  
_Me: Hell, I’d be happy if I could shoot even one of them in the ass_.

 _DiNozzo: LOL. The night is young. Might still happen_.

 _Me: Yup_.

_DiNozzo: Im translating that Gibbs speak to ‘I really fucking hope so.’_

_Me: Hah_.

 _DiNozzo: Hey, wanted to let u know I have to ship out 2nite. Classified thing_.  
_DiNozzo: Might be gone a while_.

 _Me: Thought you weren’t doing that shit anymore?_  
_Me: Commanders aren’t supposed to go out in the field and all that_.

 _DiNozzo: Me 2. Special 1 off sort of thing_.  
_DiNozzo: Technically, not gonna be ‘in the field’_.

_Me: You gonna be OK?_

_DiNozzo: Baez will kill me if anything happens so don’t worry :)_

_Me: Will you get in touch with me when you get back?_

_DiNozzo: Sure_  
_DiNozzo: Gtg. Ttyl!_

_Me: What?_

_DiNozzo: Got To Go. Talk To You Later, Agent Dinosaur! :)_

_Me: Damn skippy_.  
_Me: Good hunting._

And then nothing. Absolute radio silence. For four fucking weeks. And with every new day that passed without word from him, Gibbs’ mood became worse and worse. He hadn’t wanted to send DiNozzo a bunch of texts, in case the man was busy, or had decided he didn’t want to text Gibbs anymore or whatever. But he was starting to get worried now. He’d sent a single line, just checking in with the man a week ago, but still nothing. Gibbs didn’t want to start using NCIS resources to hunt DiNozzo down, but he had to admit he was definitely starting to worry. Tony didn’t seem like the kind of guy to be rude or impolite. He would have texted back and given Gibbs a polite brush off if he wasn’t enjoying their little text relationship. Or whatever the hell it was they were doing. He wouldn’t just end his texts with all those acronyms and that flirtatious teasing tone and then… nothing. Not without a reason.

Which made Gibbs wonder if the special thing that they’d shipped him out to had somehow turned out badly. How would Gibbs even know? He didn’t want to go through official channels to find out, he had no reason to do that. So he was left stewing while he waited, his mood worsening with every passing day without a word from DiNozzo. He didn’t like that he was now hoping that Tony had decided to stop texting him with no warning because the thought that Tony wasn’t _able_ to text him back for some terrible reason – like he was injured or worse – that was making him even grumpier than he thought possible.

So he took it out on his team. Such as it was. Kate had had to be sent back to FLETC for a bunch of re-training. Really, he’d sent all of them back, himself included, for a few weeks for some refresher courses, but he’d dictated that Kate have more courses, focusing on improving her actions when she was required to work with minorities and the LGBT community. He’d even put an official reprimand on her file for how she’d missed that Margot Baez had had a restraining order out against her sister, and Kate had somehow not caught that and had handed a minor off to her because of her prejudices. Her instructors had reported back to him that they advised counseling for Kate, because in addition to her issues with the LGBT community, she seemed to be interpreting ‘feminism’ to skew things towards her own gender instead of towards gender equality, and thus she had been predisposed to blame the big SEAL for the murder of his ex-wife, instead of her bigoted little sister, despite witnessing the bigotry first hand. It was the kind of profiling that a profiler wasn’t supposed to do.

Because of this, Gibbs was going to send her back to FLETC for additional refresher profiling courses when they started in a couple of weeks. Even though Kate was supposed to be a profiler, he’d allowed her to ram her opinions and prejudices down everyone’s throats for much too long. She wasn’t effective in her role as profiler any more. He wasn’t looking forward to having this discussion with her but it needed to be done. And he’d spoken to Vance about having her attend mandatory counseling sessions. Not that Vance would disagree with Gibbs recommending counseling for anyone on his team, especially if it was for himself. But he wasn’t looking forward to that discussion with Kate either.

In the meantime, it was her first day back in the office, and he was lurking unnoticed in the squad room, wanting to see how Kate reacted to their new teammate. Cassie Yates was – objectively speaking – a stunning woman. Black hair, pulled into a chignon at the nape of her neck, huge brown eyes, smooth dark skin and a traffic stopping figure that today, she had encased in a body-hugging dress and 4-inch stilettos. She had worked with Gibbs before, and had been climbing the ranks at NCIS a few years ago before she switched agencies. She’d chosen to go with Morrow to Homeland, and had succeeded there as well. During that time, she had been based on the west coast for several years but family related issues caused her to need to return to DC and even though Homeland didn’t have an opening for her in DC, NCIS had gladly welcomed her back.

However, she was waiting to take over Carson’s team, becoming the new Team Lead there when he retired in a few months, and since Gibbs needed someone in place of Kate while she was being retrained, Cassie had stepped in and was supposed to continue to be Gibbs’ Senior Field Agent until Carson’s retirement. He and Cassie had had a long talk over bourbon and steaks, where he had been completely honest with her about what was going on in his team and what he would need from Cassie.

At this point, he needed someone to show Agent Todd how to be a true Senior Field Agent, and how to help train new agents. McGee had had potential when he joined their team, but now he rarely went out in the field because Kate tended to make him stay and work on computer related things. Which was well and good, but they were the MCRT and Gibbs needed for each member of the team to be sharp in the field. He needed to be able to depend on McGee to be independent and a proper investigator online as well as in the real world. All these years later, he knew he’d failed the junior agent by not enabling him to become a true field agent.

Yates had taken Gibbs’ candidness with aplomb and agreed that she could help mentor the junior agent and encourage him to be better. She also had a glint in her eye after Gibbs described the issues that he had seen with Kate – the reverse sexism, the bias against LGBT, the inability to change her first impression of people.

“She’s kind of… intractable about some things,” Gibbs admitted.

“If you, second B is for Bastard Gibbs, actually think that your agent is ‘intractable’, then she’s something else,” Cassie had grinned.

“Yeah,” Gibbs rolled his eyes and shook his head. “It’s hard for me to curtail her reverse sexism though. Not without me coming off as some misogynistic asshole. I’m a bastard. I’m not a misogynist.”

“No, you’re not a misogynist,” Cassie agreed. “Although you have some interesting and, in my opinion, overly complacent attitude towards women. You’re a hardass but you let Kate and Abby walk all over you. That was true five years ago, and looks like it’s still true now.”

Gibbs shrugged and nodded sheepishly. What could he say to that? It was the truth.

“Well, I won’t hesitate to tell her when she’s out of line or if she’s being an asshole.”

Gibbs nodded, mouthing a soft thank you.

“And you know, I did just move back to DC so I could finally live with my wife,” Cassie showed off her ring. “So if she has any issues with working with someone who’s openly gay, I’ll definitely be more than happy to fuck her shit up. Professionally, of course.”

Gibbs grinned, enjoying the feral glint in Cassie’s eyes. “You can fuck her shit up during our sparring sessions, too, if you like. I won’t complain,” he muttered.

Cassie laughed. Gibbs was looking forward to seeing Kate get taken down by a woman who habitually wore dresses and heels and might be even more badass than a marine.

“So tell me more about the case with the SEALs?”

Gibbs sighed. “Fucking last straw,” he shook his head.

“I read the case files. Kate didn’t do a proper background check before she released a minor into the custody of a woman the vic had a restraining order against?”

Gibbs nodded. “Ten year old. Sent to stay with his mother’s sister who had so vehemently opposed her marriage to her wife that Margot Baez had had to take out a restraining order on her,” he shook his head. “I didn’t double check her work.”

“Why would you? It’s a simple background check. Any probie should be able to do that!”

“I thought so.”

“And the sister turned out to be the guilty party?”

“We let the vic’s ten year old son stay with his mother’s murderer, because we missed things on the background check, and we were so hot to pin it on his dad, the big, bad SEAL.”

They were silent for a moment, Cassie looking like she was just taking it all in. “I’m glad you didn’t sweep this under the rug,” she finally said.

Gibbs shrugged. “We put a kid in danger because we assumed shit and we’re too fucking biased. We needed to take a hit. I put a permanent mark on my own record as well as Kate’s because I’m just as responsible, if not more responsible than she is, for that clusterfuck.”

“You’re taking steps to fix the team. That’s a good thing.”

Gibbs made a face. “I hope so. I need to make sure this never happens again.”

Cassie nodded. “On the other hand, Abby’s been talking my ear off about the gaggle of hot men she’s now friends with.”

Gibbs chuckled at that. “Silver lining.”

“That girl can find the silver lining in anything!”

“Yup.”

“Although I heard from a bunch of others that those SEALs were all pretty goddamned hot. That service photo of Baez was something. I might be gay, but I still have eyes.”

Gibbs nodded. “Abby’s been circling and flirting with McCloud. Baez’s CO during the case.”

“I heard the SEAL Team Commander was even more of a looker.”

Gibbs grunted, trying not to blush. Fuck yeah. DiNozzo was definitely a looker.

“And still a badass motherfucker even with a prosthetic leg?”

Gibbs nodded, recalling the time he and Kate had gone to the gym at Little Creek and DiNozzo had been running on the treadmill, his sleek, sexy, space age metal prosthetic exposed and Gibbs had practically been floored with desire. The man was something else. Definitely one badass motherfucker. Although he needed to turn his thoughts away from that while he was sitting here with Cassie. He didn’t need for her to notice his little crush on the man. So he certainly didn’t need to start thinking about those little fantasies of his, especially the ones involving dark closets and semi-public places…

“And the SEALs are friends with Abby’s nuns?” Cassie interrupted that train of thought.

“Yup,” Gibbs kept his voice level.

Cassie shook her head. “I don’t even know what to say about Kate’s behavior though.”

“About where I am.”

Cassie laughed at that.

“You should definitely ask your wife to join us for dinner next time,” Gibbs extended the invitation, something he never ever did. The only people to ever visit him were the ones that were out to kill him, or Ducky, Fornell or Abby who might drop in unannounced at times.

“Yeah?” Cassie’s delicate eyebrows were raised.

“Yeah.”

“’Cause she might have to put a knife to your throat until you give her your recipe for this steak.”

Gibbs couldn’t help but snort out a laugh at that. “Fair enough.”

“Next week? Depending on our case load?”

“Yeah.”

Cassie gave him a big smile and they continued speaking more about the dynamics of the team, old friends, and random things. The rest of that dinner passed quite pleasantly.

But now, here Gibbs was lurking in the shadows, spying on his team in his usual way. He saw Kate walk off the elevator, walking in with McGee into the bullpen. Cassie was already sitting at the one open desk in the bullpen, Stan’s old desk, typing away at her computer.

“Cassie!” Kate smiled at the woman. “I’d heard that you were back and helping out with my team. What happened to San Francisco?”

Cassie looked up and smiled at them both. “Yeah. My wife put her foot down. She’s based here in DC and she can’t move, because she’s the main caregiver for her mother, and I’d been out in San Francisco all this time. She was done with being in a long distance relationship with me and, you know, we got married recently, so I’m back here to be with her full time again.”

“Your… wife?” Kate looked puzzled.

“Uh-huh,” Cassie gestured towards her cubicle wall where she’d tacked on a few photographs, including one of her and another woman. Cassie was dressed in a lovely white dress, and her wife in a classic tuxedo, her long brown curls blowing in the wind. It was obviously a wedding photo.

“Wow,” Kate nodded, although it took a moment for things to sink in. “That’s great. Although it must be kind of weird to be back here?”

“I’ve been back a few weeks now,” Cassie’s smile was gentle. “Homeland was great, but I was getting tired of cases involving pretty much terrorism. So it’s nice to be back working, you know, regular crimes again.”

“Nice.”

“It’s worth it to make my wife happy.”

McGee scuttled around them to head towards his desk, although he smiled and wished good morning to Cassie when she turned her liquid brown eyes on him and greeted him. Gibbs watched as Cassie stood and walked to McGee’s desk, giving him a small stack of papers.

“I’d like for you to redo the paperwork in this stack,” she told him. “And we’ll talk more about the interrogation you took point on yesterday, and discuss some tactics for improvement.”

“Thanks,” McGee stammered and blushed.

“McGee did an interrogation?” Kate scoffed.

“Yeah,” Cassie nodded. “We’ve been working on getting him up to speed on a few things while you’ve been away.”

“Like what?” Kate frowned. She’d put her things down and booted up her computer, but she was still standing and now she’d crossed her arms defensively.

“Field agent type skills,” Cassie said placidly, returning to her seat and going back to whatever it was she was typing on the computer.

“McGee’s our computer guy,” Kate insisted.

“Sure,” Cassie agreed. “But he’s also on NCIS’s Major Crime Response Team. He’s got to be more than just the computer guy. We can always ask someone from Cyber Crimes to sub on the team part time for that kind of skill set.”

Kate frowned. “Why are you making waves on my team, Cassie? I thought you were supposed to take Carson’s team when he retires? That’s what the email that Vance sent out said, welcoming you back to NCIS.”

Gibbs decided it was time for him to make an appearance. “Because,” he growled at Kate. “I asked her to.”

Kate started and stared at him in surprise.

“With me, Todd,” Gibbs jerked his head, moving towards the elevator. It was time for a private discussion.

Kate obediently scurried after him but when Gibbs hit the emergency off button and the elevator stalled, she was frowning and crossing her arms again. “What’s going on, Gibbs?” she wanted to know.

Gibbs sighed. “You know your FLETC instructors have been keeping me in the loop, right?” he started out. “You know the reports you’ve been getting, and the things your instructors have been speaking to you about, they keep me informed about it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I disagree with their assessments,” she objected.

“I don’t,” Gibbs said flatly. “I think they’re spot on.”

Blood drained from Kate’s face at that bald statement. “You can’t possibly believe that I’m biased and prejudiced, and that I’m using my gender as an excuse to get away with things!”

Gibbs blew out a soft breath. “Actually, I can,” he said sadly. “You need to take this seriously, Kate. Or I can’t have you on my team.”

“ _What?_ ”

Gibbs stared at her. Could she be so blind? He wasn’t someone who minced words and there was no way he could stay silent about this.

“You can’t tell McGee he has to do the scut work because you’re a woman and if he doesn’t do it, he’s being sexist and then turn around and get mad when someone does treat you like a stereotypical woman,” he told her bluntly. “You can’t let your upbringing and religious beliefs bias our cases. You put a child at risk because you immediately assumed that his father was guilty, and handed his son off to a woman even though you didn’t complete a full background check on her, just because she’s a woman. You missed that the vic had a restraining order out against her sister. And you were disrespectful of the vic’s relationship with her wife, and made assumptions about her relationship with her ex-husband. You made assumptions about so many things without investigating it fully.”

“Are we back to this? Isn’t it enough that you put a permanent reprimand on my record and sent me back to FLETC for _weeks?_ ” Kate demanded.

“I put a permanent reprimand on my _own_ record for this case,” Gibbs snarled at her, losing his patience. “We fucked up, Kate. I’ve dropped the ball and let this ridiculous behavior of yours continue for too long. You will be doing exactly what your FLETC instructors have told you to do, including going to counseling, or you’re fucking off my team.”

“What?”

Gibbs slammed his hand on the button to reactivate the elevator. “No more of this bullshit behavior,” he barked. “McGee should’ve been fully trained to be an independent field agent after all these years, but he’s not. He’s still a desk jockey. Cassie is starting to work with him on that because I need more than just you as a full fledge field agent, Kate.”

“Cassie’s not even staying permanently!”

“True, but while I have her, _she’s_ my SFA and you will do as she tells you. Stop pigeonholing McGee and let him grow up and become a field agent. Or I’m sending him to Cyber Crimes, kicking you out, and starting the team over from scratch.”

Kate stood there, wide eyed and shocked when the elevator doors dinged open.

“And if I hear _anything_ , even the slightest bit untoward about the fact that Cassie has a wife and is in a gay relationship, you’re not going to get a second warning. You _will_ be off the team for good,” Gibbs walked off without looking back.

He walked into autopsy and listened to Ducky tell him a few stories to calm himself before he headed back to the bullpen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll have more tomorrow! I hope that the sequel won't disappoint since I know you guys did seem to like the first SEAL Tony story :)


	3. Part One: Gibbs (continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We start off the chapter basically with the opening scene of s09e10 Sins of the Father, and that section is not in Gibbs' POV. That has the omniscient narrator. But after that, everything else goes back to being in Gibbs' POV and I twist the hell out of the rest of the episode.
> 
> [Click here to read a transcript of the episode](https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=ncis&episode=s09e10). And please bear in mind that there will be spoilers for this episode.
> 
> For additional warnings for this chapter (it's in the tags, too but just in case), please check the end notes before you read this chapter.
> 
> Also, a quick note from the text messages exchanged in the previous chapter, Gibbs made mention of his ex and her ex the Feebie, and Tony joked it was like the Devil's Triangle. That was a reference to s09e07 Devil's Triangle, which would have happened a few weeks before Sins of the Father. So I thought that would be a small but concrete nod to canon episodes :)

A DC Metro black and white was patrolling the streets along the Potomac when they spotted a black Rolls Royce parked illegally at a haphazard angle past a security fence, its hood almost abutting the barrier between asphalt and river, the expensive car looking as if it had aborted a rush to plough through the barrier, into the rushing waters. The officers drove up to it and stepped out of their vehicle, walking through an opening in the fence to check it out.

“What’s wrong with this picture?” Officer Cooper asked his partner, both of them appreciating the sleek lines of the incredibly expensive car. What the hell was a car that most probably cost more than Cooper’s entire apartment block doing in this neighborhood, and illegally parked beyond the security fence?

“Let’s check it out,” Office Grable approached the area through the open gate in the fence, straining her eyes to peer into the interior of the car.

“Someone’s in the car,” Grable noted.

Cooper went around to the driver’s side where a figure was slumped over the steering wheel. It appeared to be a man, graying hair, expensive coat. Cooper could smell the alcohol wafting in the air. He opened the unlocked door and Grable opened the passenger side door.

“Hey! Hey, mister!” Cooper called out.

The man groaned softly.

Cooper caught Grable’s eye and she nodded, turning instead to do a walk around the car. “Now, let’s go, buddy,” Cooper firmly coaxed the man out of the car. “Out. Let’s get out of here.”

The man was beyond out of it, despite his expensive clothes. Even rich people had problems, Cooper guessed. He had to support the figure to ensure he didn’t just tip over right out of his seat, while trying not to inhale the alcohol fumes coming off of the man.

“Easy now,” he said, helping him move. “Come on… Two feet. Two feet on the ground. Yeah. Come on. Get up.”

Gently, but firmly, he got the man to his feet, cajoling him softly to stand up. In the meantime, Grable walked around the Rolls – yes, she maybe did admire the beautiful car as she walked round to the back – but she was looking to see if anything was amiss. She peered into the backseat, and kept moving. Then she spotted what looked to be a sleeve or something, some kind of fabric, sticking out of the closed trunk. Concerned, she clicked the back of the trunk of the Rolls and it raised up with a pop, revealing a man wearing what looked to be dress blues naval uniform. And he looked so very dead.

“Body!” Grable called out, heading over to where her partner was in the process of keeping the man upright. She pulled out her gun and went to cover the man, the possible murderer, and Cooper pulled his gun out as well to back her up.

“Hands up!” she told the man, who looked to still not be quite awake or lucid, and was a man in his mid to late sixties, dressed in expensive and fashionable clothes. 

\-----------------------------------

**Part One: Gibbs (continued)**

When Gibbs got back to the bullpen he was just in time to see Cassie distribute the old cold case files that needed to be reviewed and then input into the system. She’d split them up equally between herself, Kate and McGee. When Kate whined about being given this work instead of letting their most junior agent work on it, Cassie gave her a sharp look and told her that it was in the best interest of every member of the team to be familiar with cold cases. Everyone deserved justice. Manually inputting details of cold cases into the system would be a good way for all of them to familiarize themselves with some of these cases.

Kate was trying not to pout and McGee looked amazed by this development, and it made Gibbs even more convinced that asking Cassie to be his second while Kate hopefully got her act together was a good thing. But before they could get too far into the pre-computerization cold cases, Gibbs got the call about a dead Naval Officer found on the riverfront, so the team moved out.

When they got there, DC Metro released the scene to NCIS without any jurisdiction issues, given that the dead body found in the trunk of the car was a Naval Officer.

“It’s all yours, Agent Gibbs,” the black police officer told him. “Body’s in the trunk. Found the suspect asleep at the wheel.”

“This is too easy,” Kate shook her head.

“My partner’s holding him but he still seems really out of it,” the cop went on. “Even so, guy’s still a real pain in the ass.”

Gibbs and his team eyed the suspect who looked to be perfectly respectable, if perhaps somewhat wrinkled and mussed, as if he’d had a wild night on the town. But of course, never assume, Gibbs found himself silently reminding his own self of this. He glanced at Kate, willing her to remember it as well.

“McGee, get the suspect back to the Navy Yard,” Gibbs barked out as he headed to the trunk where Ducky was waiting for him. “Cassie, Kate, process the scene.”

The MCRT was starting to carry out their orders and McGee was speaking to the suspect and the police officer’s partner that was holding him, and they were switching out the cop’s cuffs for McGee’s when the older gentleman began swaying. Gibbs saw it out of the corner of his eyes and ran to help McGee, calling for Ducky to come with him. The suspect was sweating profusely and complaining about a pain in his left arm and in his chest. Gibbs was trying to ensure his clothing wasn’t constricting his neck or breathing passages and the cop was radioing for EMTs when the man’s eyes rolled back in his head. He clutched his chest and his legs gave out on him.

Gibbs and McGee lowered him to the ground and Cassie was immediately helping Ducky down as well.

“No pulse,” Ducky declared. “And he’s not breathing.”

Ducky, Gibbs and Cassie started performing CPR on him and Kate worked with Metro to keep the area around the car as secure as possible but unfortunately they weren’t able to revive him. By the time the EMTs arrived, all they could do was confirm Ducky’s pronouncement of the time of death. Since they now had a second body connected to the first, things were definitely going to get a little hairier.

Gibbs checked out the newly deceased man’s ID and frowned. Surely there weren’t that many Anthony DiNozzos running around in the world. He double checked to ensure that the dead man was the man pictured in the driver’s license, and yes, in fact it was. The birthdate indicated on the card said that he was old enough to be Commander DiNozzo’s father.

Gibbs sighed and handed the ID to Ducky who also blew out a long breath. “This is going to be a sticky one,” Ducky said softly.

Gibbs nodded.

“You know this guy?” the female officer asked Gibbs. “Repeat offender?”

Gibbs shook his head. “I didn’t see this one coming,” he muttered.

“How could you?” Ducky answered. “Perhaps it is a different Anthony DiNozzo?”

“Not a very common name.”

“Coincidence is a funny thing.”

Gibbs grunted.

“Well, let’s begin investigating, shall we?” Ducky slapped his palm on his knee. “It is after all, what we do. Before we begin worrying about complications which may or may not exist, we must find out who these men are. Then we will find out what is going on.”

Gibbs nodded. Yeah. They could definitely do that.

\-----------------------------------

Gibbs and Yates were on their way to Little Creek to notify Commander DiNozzo that his father was a suspect in a murder investigation, and had died while in their custody. And while Gibbs had wanted an excuse to find out what was going on with the Commander – with _Tony_ , – given the lack of communication for the past month, not since he said he was going on some classified assignment, to go to Little Creek to notify the man that his father was dead was not exactly how Gibbs had envisioned this happening. He tried not to obsess about seeing Tony again, tried to keep his heart rate steady and to quell the butterflies in his belly. Because he was going to get to see Tony again. And god, he’d really missed him and he really wanted to just get a look at the beautiful man again.

Shit, when did he turn into a teenager again? He hadn’t felt this nervous to speak to a victim’s family since, well, just about his very first case, probably. When the pain of losing Shannon and Kelly had been so close to the surface that all he could do was empathize with the vic’s family. But this time, the nerves were so complicated, he couldn’t even unpack and understand where it was all coming from yet. He’d been worried about the man for a while now, too, so he hoped that everything was all right with him, so that was another layer of complication for Gibbs’ feelings right now.

Cassie seemed to understand that he was not his usual stoic self for once.

“Ducky was right. This is kind of a sticky one, huh?” she was sympathetic.

Gibbs shrugged. “Notifying people that their family has died never gets easy.”

Cassie nodded and kept silent, although her eyes spoke volumes. She was probably focusing on the fact that the MCRT hadn’t made the best impression on SEAL Team Four to begin with, and that the Senior DiNozzo had died while in their custody and was still the one and only suspect for the murder of the dead guy found in the trunk, Lieutenant Dean Massey of the US Navy Reserves. Massey’s cause of death was blunt force trauma. And well, this was probably not going to go over well with Commander DiNozzo or his men given the MCRT’s history with the SEAL team. Understandably so. And all that was bad enough. But Cassie didn’t even know about the godforsaken crush that Gibbs had on DiNozzo, or that he and Tony had started a communication via text – a really painstaking one on his part. God. Gibbs was an absolute mess about it all.

A small part of him was hoping that maybe DiNozzo would still be on assignment so they could put off informing him of this new clusterfuck, but an overwhelmingly huge part of him was so looking forward to seeing the man again that if he wasn’t there, Gibbs’ would be utterly disappointed.

So Gibbs ignored Cassie and her partial understanding about his misgivings, although they batted around ideas about what could have happened with Massey and the Senior DiNozzo as they drove. When they got to Little Creek and signed in to enter the base, Gibbs drove to the building where DiNozzo’s office was with no trouble. Petty Officer Baylor was manning his desk in the outer section of Commander DiNozzo’s office.

“Baylor,” Gibbs greeted him, trying to ignore his pounding heart. Despite the circumstances, he was really looking forward to seeing Tony again.

The man looked up and was visibly surprised. “Agent Gibbs?”

“Petty Officer Baylor, this is Agent Cassie Yates,” Gibbs introduced them.

“Agent Yates,” Baylor was polite, but confused. “Why are you guys here?”

“No one in the team is in trouble, Baylor,” Gibbs tried to reassure him. “But we need to speak with Commander DiNozzo.”

“The Commander is unavailable at this time,” Baylor still looked concerned. “Can I take a message?”

Gibbs sighed. “It’s official NCIS business, unfortunately, and something that we can only speak to Commander DiNozzo about.”

Baylor made a face. “He’s not available at this time. Come back in maybe a couple of weeks?”

“Is he not on base at this time?” Gibbs asked, trying not to immediately jump down Baylor’s throat and ask if his commander had been gone the entire month, and if they even knew where he was.

Baylor blew out a breath. “One moment,” he told them and picked up the phone. “Chief? NCIS is here and they need to speak to the Commander. Some kind of official business that I can’t take a message for. Yeah. Right. OK.”

He hung up the phone, got up, and started to walk around his desk. “Please follow me. You’re going to have to speak to Chief Baez about whatever it is you can’t talk to me about.”

Gibbs and Yates followed as Baylor led them out of the office and through the building in a somewhat circuitous route to what was Master Chief Baez’s office. He rapped sharply on Baez’s door, and opened it.

“Chief? I have Agent Gibbs and Agent Yates,” he ushered the agents in and nodded when Baez dismissed him.

“Agents? Commander DiNozzo is unavailable at the moment, so how can I help you instead?” Baez stood and shook hands with Gibbs and Yates when Gibbs introduced his temporary SFA. His hand was so large that it completely swallowed Cassie’s elegantly manicured hand. Gibbs had forgotten just what a big man Baez was. Almost a head taller than he was.

“That’s what Baylor said. We need to inform him of something of a personal nature though, so if you could just point us to his quarters?” Cassie was polite but firm. They knew that DiNozzo didn’t maintain a residence off base.

Baez gave Gibbs a long look. “Is this about the Commander’s father?” he asked abruptly.

Cassie gave him a surprised frown. Gibbs was wondering the same thing. Why would Baez immediately ask about this?

“This is a something we need to speak to Commander DiNozzo about. In person,” Cassie countered.

Baez sighed and gestured for them to sit. Gibbs and Cassie both sat.

“Look,” Baez started, and he was obviously carefully choosing his words. “ _Is_ this about his father?”

“Chief, we can’t speak to you about it,” Gibbs told him.

“I know that. So how about this. Let me speak to you instead,” Baez nodded. “My Commander – Tony – and I have been serving together going on two decades now. He’s my brother, and I don’t use that word lightly. I know that he’s been waiting all these years for someone to come and inform him that his father is either dead or arrested. He thinks he’s prepared to hear the news, but he’s really not. So I’ll need to… know what’s going on so we can figure out how to handle this. Is Senior dead or arrested?” His gaze was long and intense, scrutinizing them. “OK. Dead, then,” he was apparently very good at reading people because both Cassie and Gibbs had maintained their poker faces. “And why is NCIS here to make the notification? Why aren’t the cops or some hospital calling us about this?”

Cassie flicked Gibbs a quick look. “It’s complicated,” she finally said.

“Motherfucker can’t even just up and die without it being a complication for Tony,” Baez muttered to himself. “Well, if you think Tony did something to his father, then you would be wrong. Whatever it is this complication might be, Tony has an ironclad alibi.”

“We’re not here to take him in for questioning,” Gibbs growled. “Just here to make the formal notification.”

“In person? NCIS? This isn’t any old ‘complication’.”

“No one should just hear about their father’s death by phone from a random person,” Cassie tried. “Besides, we’ve called all his numbers and all we get is his voicemail. We definitely do not want to leave him a message about this.”

Baez glared at them before he sighed. “He’s on medical leave,” he finally admitted. “He’s… he’s not in good shape.”

“The thing he went on go south?” Gibbs asked.

“Last time any of us lets him go anywhere without a team of SEALs,” Baez nodded and snorted in derision. “You can follow me to where he’s holed up, but give me some time to prepare him for visitors.”

“He’s in the hospital?” Gibbs asked.

“Released yesterday from Landstuhl,” Baez grabbed his cover and they all walked out, walking with him through the hallways.

Landstuhl? Gibbs was familiar with Landstuhl. It was the main military hospital in Europe, in Germany, in fact. He’d been sent there when he’d been injured during his deployments too. This news about Tony being not in good shape worried him very much. Tony had seemed so indestructible in so many ways, persevering through his injuries and coming back stronger than ever, even after losing a leg and a kidney. But everyone had a breaking point. Gibbs didn’t know how bad this was and how Tony was coping, but at least he was surrounded by his men now and Baez and Baylor were certainly doing their best to protect him.

“He arrived from Ramstein last night. He’s in rough shape,” Baez continued.

Cassie and Gibbs exchanged looks. Yeah, this was definitely not what either of them wanted to spring on anyone, especially an injured serviceman who had just been released from the hospital. They followed behind Baez as he drove through the base, stopping in front of a small house on a street of houses. All of the houses on the street were the same size and exactly alike. They were pretty much basic quarters. As a Commander, DiNozzo probably could upgrade to one of the larger houses, but well, Gibbs didn’t know the ins and outs of the man’s inner workings. If this was what he wanted to live in, who could argue with him?

The house itself was well kept, with a neat yard that was filled with a surprising number of flowering fall blooms. Baez asked them to wait in the car for ten minutes and he would get them when DiNozzo was ready for them.

Even though it wasn’t standard procedure, Gibbs and Yates sat and waited. It was probably closer to fifteen minutes before Baez opened the front door and beckoned to them.

Gibbs and Cassie stepped out of the Charger and went up to the door.

“Commander DiNozzo,” Gibbs called out, deciding to stick to formalities for this part of things.

“Yeah,” they heard Tony call out tiredly. “Come in.”

Gibbs allowed Yates to enter before him, and Baez closed the door behind them. They walked into the living room where a large, black, baby grand piano sat by the window. There was a couch, several armchairs and a leather recliner arranged around a large screen television. DiNozzo’s walls had bookshelves, all of them full to bursting with books, and wall behind the TV contained shelves filled with what looked to be hundreds of neatly arranged DVDs. There were photographs of landscapes and some artwork put up on the walls, and a few pictures of DiNozzo and his men together, DiNozzo and Spencer, DiNozzo with all the Baezes including the murdered Margot and Jen, but no other photographs.

Tony was cocooned in a nest in his recliner, pillows supporting his back and head, and blankets covering his legs. A movie was playing softly on the TV. Gibbs gave it a look and recognized it to be _Stagecoach_ , an old black and white western with John Wayne as the Ringo Kid. His father had been a big fan of the Duke.

“I hope you’ll forgive me for not getting up,” Tony’s voice was hoarse and Gibbs’ eyes were drawn to the bruises around his neck. The bruises were probably the cause of Tony’s hoarseness.

Gibbs couldn’t take his eyes off the man. He was so much thinner than the last time he’d seen him. His complexion was sallow, the shadows around his eyes made him look gaunt. He looked like he could stand to still be in the hospital for another week or two. Gibbs could see the yellowing bruises healing on his face, and his arms. He looked to have healing rope burns ringing his neck and wrists. Probably his ankle as well, Gibbs thought. He looked like he’d been thoroughly beat up for some length of time. Whatever had happened on his assignment, Commander DiNozzo had been put through hell. It made it so much worse for Gibbs and Cassie to be the bearer of bad news now. Gibbs was so not looking forward to this conversation. All he wanted to do now was just hold Tony and feel his heart beat, reassure himself that he was alive and on the road to recovery, and do whatever it was that Tony wanted in order to help get him well as quickly as possible. But that wasn’t his place and he had a job to do, so he sucked it up, focusing instead on the task at hand.

“Please sit,” Tony was unfailingly polite. He gave Baez a look and the big man immediately sat in the armchair closest to DiNozzo. Cassie and Gibbs sat on the couch. “Lobo tells me that you have bad news about my father?”

Gibbs nodded.

“Dead or arrested?” Tony asked immediately.

Gibbs and Cassie exchanged a quick glance before Gibbs squared his shoulders. “Commander DiNozzo, we’re here to inform you that your father, Anthony D DiNozzo died at 0900 this morning.”

Tony closed his eyes and sighed, nodding slowly. “OK,” he breathed. “Thanks for coming to tell me in person. But why would NCIS be here to make this notification?” Now he looked confused.

Cassie gave Baez a pointed look and Tony made an impatient noise. “It’s fine,” he assured her. “I asked Baez to stay for this.”

Cassie nodded. “We can’t comment on the details, because right now it’s an open investigation. Another man was found dead, murdered, at the scene where we encountered your father. Do you by any chance know of a Lieutenant Dean Massey? He’s a Navy pilot, a reservist at the time of his death.”

DiNozzo frowned and thought for a moment. “No, can’t say I do. Lobo?” he turned to Baez.

“I don’t think any of us on SEAL Team Four have crossed paths with anyone named Massey,” Baez frowned thoughtfully. “I can double check our ops files, but he doesn’t sound familiar.”

“Why are you asking about Massey? Who is he? What’s he got to do with my father?” Tony turned those mesmerizing green eyes back to Gibbs and Cassie. The green of his eyes were even more distinct, standing out starkly in his face since there were dark circles under his eyes, and he looked gaunt and pale, aside from the traces of bruises that could still clearly be seen.

“Your father was alive when he was first taken into custody by DC Metro, and then by my team,” Gibbs told him.

“He was alive?” Tony made a face. “And you met him? And he had possession of a dead body? So what? Is he a suspect in the murder?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Cassie took up the narrative. “However, he died before we could take him back to the Yard and interrogate him.”

“He’s both arrested _and_ dead!” Tony’s tone was raised an octave. He gave Baez a wide eyed stare and shook his head.

Baez put a hand on his arm and Gibbs watched as the Commander took the comfort that his brother gave him. He couldn’t help but reminded of the time when Tony had been the one offering Baez comfort after the loss of Margot and Jen.

“So he just what, dropped dead on you?” Tony raised an eyebrow.

“Our ME, Dr Mallard, is looking into cause of death for both him and Lieutenant Massey,” Gibbs muttered.

Tony sighed and rubbed his forehead tiredly. “Right,” he sighed. “Right. I have no idea what happened with that whole thing… And… Well, I don’t know if Baez already told you, but I just got back from Ramstein last night, and came back here. I’ve been here on base, in my house, ever since. Base security can attest to that.”

“OK,” Gibbs said. “That’s great. We didn’t think you’d be a suspect, but it’s always better to be able to definitively cross it off as a possibility. We came in person to let you know, because we’ll have to look into your father as we investigate both of these deaths. We didn’t want that to be a surprise for you.”

“He didn’t, like, try to resist arrest or anything and you had to take him down forcibly, did you?” Baez asked, looking horrified.

Tony smacked his Chief’s arm, although it seemed to relieve the tension that was building up in him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “This is a lot to take in. Never thought he’d be a murderer.”

“We don’t know yet if he was,” Cassie told him, her voice soft and soothing. “And no, he didn’t try to resist arrest.”

They waited while Tony sat and his eyes idly went back to the TV screen where the movie was still playing. Baez was chewing on his bottom lip, eyes on his commanding officer.

“Is he _really_ dead?” Tony finally asked, sounding as if he were a lost little boy.

“I’m afraid so, Commander,” Gibbs told him, keeping his tone gentle.

“Huh,” he looked down on his hands. Gibbs noticed that the ring and pinky fingers of both hands were splinted. So someone had broken some of the Commander’s fingers as well. “Always thought he’d outlive me…” Tony murmured. It wasn’t like he was really speaking to them. He was probably speaking more to himself.

Baez stood and started ushering Gibbs and Cassie towards the front door and even though all Gibbs wanted was to stay and be there for the ailing commander, he couldn’t help but respect Baez’s instincts, to protect his CO, his friend, and by his own words, his _brother_ , from prying eyes at such a vulnerable time. This kind of loyalty and friendship was rare in this world. Gibbs allowed himself to be hustled towards the door, respecting Baez and wanting to give DiNozzo whatever he needed, even if it was leaving him.

“Can I see him?” DiNozzo’s voice surprised them all, catching them right by the front door.

Baez huffed out an explosive sigh and pursed his lips. Gibbs understood that he’d been trying to get the agents out of his commander’s house before Tony could make that request. He’d wanted to deal with the fallout without witnesses. And he understood that. He exchanged a nod with Baez, trying to tell him that he was going to discourage Tony from this course of action, at least for now.

Gibbs turned back to where DiNozzo was still ensconced among his blankets and pillows, not having tried to get up even once, which worried him even more than he thought possible. What had struck him so hard from previous encounters was the sheer vivacity and energy that the man could barely contain. This DiNozzo didn’t exude that energy and had just sat there, semi-reclined, the entire time. And that just didn’t feel right to Gibbs. Tony should only ever be so weak after an intense orgasm, the kind that laid a man out and made him pliant and replete. Not this, where he’d obviously been through something. He hoped that Tony wasn’t hiding a bullet wound or two somewhere under those blankets.

“We don’t need you to ID him,” Gibbs said gently. “Fingerprints match our database, and we have his driver’s license. Everything checks out.”

“You have his _fingerprints?_ On _record?_ ” Tony raised his eyebrows. “Oh my god. He has a record? Has he been arrested before?”

Gibbs sighed. “Yes,” he nodded. “Your father had a record going back quite a few years. Small time stuff, all white collar related.”

Tony snorted and shook his head. “I need to see him with my own eyes,” he squared his shoulders.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Baez objected.

“I want to see him, and then I’ll go back to resting.”

“We have photos if you want…” Cassie offered.

DiNozzo shook his head, hand reaching down and pressing the button to make his chair back straighten up. “No, I need to see him for myself,” he said firmly, sounding more like himself now, which Gibbs liked, even though he didn’t like what was prompting this return to his normal self.

“You can see him tomorrow, or in a couple days,” Baez tried.

The look DiNozzo gave Baez was sharp, and not to be disobeyed. That was a reason why DiNozzo was Commander of SEAL Team Four despite being young and disabled. And that look right there made Gibbs’ dick twitch in his pants. He knew he’d just added to his private spank bank right there. Even as indisposed as he seemed to be, there was still that spark of command that made Tony so dynamic.

“Yes, sir,” Baez nodded, acquiescing.

Gibbs watched as Tony reached for crutches that were strategically placed close to the chair where he could reach them, before Baez ushered him and Cassie out the door, so he couldn’t see anything else.

“I’ll drive him to the Navy Yard,” Baez told them. “We’ll contact you with an ETA and if we could just get this done quickly? He’s supposed to be resting. This is not good for him right now.”

Gibbs nodded.

“Thank you,” Baez closed the door on them.

Gibbs and Cassie paused for a moment to exchange looks again before they both headed to the car. They were on their way back to DC before Cassie blew out a long breath.

“That went well,” she muttered.

Gibbs snorted.

“He looks like he just got back from being waterboarded.”

Gibbs wondered if maybe he had been. He guessed he now had a really good reason why Tony hadn’t replied to his texts, if he’d only just got back from what looked to be hell last night.

“Or at least severely tortured. And starved from the looks of it,” Cassie continued.

Gibbs grunted an agreement. He found himself wishing fervently again that Tony wasn’t sporting too many other injuries that were hidden from them.

Cassie sighed. “I already know how much I’m going to hate this case.”

Gibbs couldn’t disagree with Cassie at all.

“I thought they promoted him out of the field for a reason?” Cassie turned to Gibbs. “Thought he wasn’t fit for field duty any more?”

“I guess they felt he was fit enough for whatever went FUBAR there,” Gibbs muttered.

Cassie nodded. She rubbed her forehead and frowned. “Twenty bucks says Kate’s going to still want to make Commander DiNozzo as a person of interest in this case.”

Gibbs rolled his eyes and couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Yeah. This was one of those things Kate needed to work on. First impressions being the only impression she ever had, refusing to open her mind to people. It was now time for her to put those FLETC classes into practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for minor character death. Tony DiNozzo Senior, to be exact.
> 
> I'm a little behind on replying to comments but I've read them all, and will get to them all eventually! Thank you for all of them! I really appreciate the comments, kudos and bookmarks <3
> 
> See y'alls tomorrow! :D


	4. Part Two: Tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, please check the end notes for more warnings. I have added to the tags so please check them again. I ended up editing this chapter for way too long during today's edits that I don't even know what to say about it other than I hope it's not too terrible.
> 
> Also if you want some added angst, give the Demi Lovato song I linked to in the notes in the first chapter a listen. Bring tissues. ;)

**Part Two: Tony**

Tony knew that Baez was not happy with him. Hell, he could even feel the waves of anger emanating from the man. They’d only released him from Landstuhl because he was supposed to be resting, and his quarters were really the best place for him to get that. Hospitals were just not restful for him and they probably had that in his file somewhere. Still, he was supposed to be on strict bed rest for at least another week. So yeah, he understood why Baez was mad. But he also knew that if he didn’t just go and take a look, see for himself if Senior was truly dead, he wouldn’t be able to rest. He didn’t really have a choice in the matter. He _needed_ to see him in person. And not tomorrow, or some other day, when he was supposedly better or whatever. He wouldn’t be able to stop stressing about this and get better if he didn’t go to DC and look at this body purported to be his father’s.

It had been over twenty years since he had set eyes on the man who had fathered him and he just couldn’t take it on faith that he had died. Not even if the delicious Agent Gibbs with the pretty blue eyes had come to personally inform him of this. He needed to look at this person that they thought was Senior and confirm it with his own eyes, because he just couldn’t believe it. Father had always been such a looming factor throughout his childhood. He’d been a specter hanging over his head, someone whose opinion was everything. Every day he would anxiously ask himself the same questions: Would Father say anything to him today? Would Father be angry just setting his eyes on Tony, or would Tony open his mouth and bring the wrath down on his head? Would Father be dissatisfied with the way Tony poured him his scotch every afternoon? Would Father yell at Mommy because of something Tony did, or didn’t do? And the guilt of bringing Mommy into the problems that Father had with him. That was what drove her to drink and just keep drinking, that’s what he’d thought when he was a child. And then, after his mother died, Father’s default had just been drunk and angry at Tony, every second of every day.

So yeah. Tony needed to make sure that this man they thought was his father was truly him. Because the man from his memory couldn’t possibly be dead. It was just not possible. He’d been big and strong and he’d always gotten the better of Tony, both physically and with his hurtful words. Surely he couldn’t be dead? It had to be some kind of mistake. Tony couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t be able to sleep until he could see this person with his own eyes so no amount of bed rest would actually be restful for him.

Tony couldn’t stop thinking now about the last time he and Senior had spoken, it had been the day that Senior had washed his hands of him. Tony had just been expelled from boarding school at the start of his senior year of high school. Well, the story really started when Tony had been a junior in high school, when he finally snapped and got tired of trying to be a good person and do his best in school, with absolutely no reward. All he got for his good behavior was to be stuffed into lockers on an almost daily basis, to try to never get caught alone in the bathroom or he would be humiliated and beat up, and his personal favorite, to be strung up in his underwear up the flag pole. He just couldn’t stop what was happening to him, and no adult cared enough to watch out for him. And one day, after all those years of toeing the line and being a good boy, getting bullied and not standing up for himself, just taking all that was thrown at him, just trying to get good grades and do well in school, even though there was no reward, with no end in sight to the torture and humiliation that his life was turning out to be, he’d decided to just change himself. If being good got him absolutely nothing, then why even bother? What was the point of it all? So he’d changed course during his junior year and began acting out. Being a bad seed. First it was just in his classes, the usual bad seed things like sleeping at his desk, not turning in his homework, never participating even if he knew the answers or had something to contribute. 

The turning point was that time he finally struck back at his bullies. He’d just had a growth spurt so he was finally as tall, or maybe even taller than some of his classmates. He was definitely taller than some of the boys that kept smacking him around and had been persecuting him for years. By this time, he’d stopped trying in class, didn’t turn in any homework, didn’t participate, didn’t do anything but pretty much take up space so there really wasn’t any reason for these guys to pick on him. He wasn’t the teacher’s pet anymore. But they kept on doing it and he’d never put up a fight. But that time, it turned out to be the last straw. That had been the final time the main school bullies tried to stuff him into a locker. He’d apparently had some kind of growth spurt and more physical strength than he’d realized, and when they tried to push him around and smack him around again, he’d just gone at them like a maniac. All these years later, every time he watched _Talladega Nights_ , when Ricky Bobby’s son says ‘I’ma come at you like a spider monkey’, it always made him giggle because it reminded him of that time he finally lost it and started standing up for himself. He’d definitely gone at them like a spider monkey that time. Even without any training, all the anger he’d contained within him just bubbled over and he’d some managed to give two of them black eyes and split lips, and fractured the rib of another by kicking him while he was down. A teacher had had to pull him off the boys, and he’d been kicking and spitting with uncontained fury. And despite the fact that _everyone_ , the teachers included, knew that those boys had habitually beaten him up, when it turned out that he was the one who got in trouble for defending himself when attacked by three other boys, he’d absolutely lost it. It was definitely the last fucking straw.

He began acting out even more. All the years of sneaking around the school hoping not to be noticed, his different hiding places, it all came in handy for when he started sneaking out after curfew. He started smoking, snuck off campus on weeknights and weekends to go out clubbing. He lost his virginity to a woman who claimed to be a Rockette, and after that he even started letting men take him into the restrooms at these clubs and fuck his mouth. Sometimes they even paid him real money for it. He started drinking and doing drugs. Marijuana was everywhere back then. Eventually he tried speed and LSD but he didn’t really like the feeling of loss of control that came with speed, and his hallucinations on acid weren’t exactly pleasant given the way his life had gone, so he tended to stick to smoking pot which mellowed him out and put him in a good mood. Besides, he thought he looked cool rolling his joints. But destroying himself wasn’t enough. He started vandalizing property – graffiti on walls, including in his school, destroying mailboxes, taking out his anger on empty warehouses by just smashing the walls with a baseball bat. Whatever it was that made him feel good. He didn’t even care that he was arrested a few times. Who the hell cared anyway? He just thought of even more things that he could do. And the more out of control he seemed to others, the more in control he felt of his own life. Because for once, he wasn’t just letting things happen and hoping for the best, he was doing what he needed to do to feel more present in his own life. Like that first time he’d stood up for himself, it had made him feel alive and in control.

He’d stopped having hope that anything would ever change for him. He’d either walk around with his head down and get pummeled, or he could be the scary, unpredictable kid that was rumored to have murdered people. He decided to choose door number two. Fuck caring about his future. What future? All he could see was a lifetime of misery. Maybe one of these days he would actually murder someone, or maybe someone would kill him in a fight. Tony wasn’t sure which would be preferable, but either was definitely better than living his life in fear and seclusion again.

It didn’t take long for that school to expel him after that. And he spent the rest of the school year being kicked out of several other schools. It became a point of pride to Tony to see how quickly he could get himself expelled from high school.

And to go back to the last time he’d spoken to his father, Senior had to have been forced to come to the school to meet with the principal around the beginning of his senior year. He’d been at that school all of three days before the school decided it wasn’t a good fit. That he was a problem. Senior had sat there, stewing angrily while the principal listed all of the rules that Tony had allegedly broken, Tony’s terrible attitude and all kinds of other things. Tony didn’t even know how he could have done all of these things he was accused of in the seventy two hours he’d been at the school so far, but maybe his reputation preceded him. He sat there, picking at his fingernails and resisting the urge to start gnawing at them because he was nervous about being in Senior’s presence again after at least four months of not seeing him, but he was also listening to the diatribe that was going on. About how he was ‘wasting his potential’. How he could ‘be somebody’ if he tried. And that Senior had to do something in order to ‘wake him up’. The air quotes were definitely audible. Tony could only roll his eyes and continue to pick at his fingernails. They weren’t there to listen to his side of the story and even if they were, Tony wasn’t going to just tell them what was going on in his head. So he let the angry words wash over him while he thought about _The Breakfast Club_ that he’d snuck out of the school to watch the previous night. Well, so the principal was at least right about sneaking out after hours. He was guilty of that. But the movie had been awesome. He was definitely Judd Nelson. Yeah. He had to physically resist the urge to raise his hand the way Judd Nelson had at the end of the movie. The principal was still too busy listing his faults, and Senior might just backhand him from where he was sitting, in easy reach of the man.

At the end of it, Senior just asked the man to refund the school fees, given that Tony hadn’t been there that long, and then he’d dragged the boy out of there and then yelled at him right outside the building’s main entrance. Senior had gone on and on about how Tony was never going to amount to anything. How Tony was an utter disappointment to him. How Tony would inevitably end up dead in the gutter, alone and unlamented. Tony was a waste of space, a waste of money, and should rethink his entire existence. Senior was just done with him, and he was cut off for good. Senior would pay for one more school and if he managed to get himself kicked out of that one, well then, Tony would just have to be cut loose. Senior couldn’t waste any more time or money on him.

Tony had just let his eyes glaze over, ignoring Senior. He’d tried for years to get Senior’s attention, but now that he wasn’t trying anymore, he really didn’t need to hear these words. But when Senior said, “Your mother would be so disappointed about this,” in that frosty tone of voice, it had _done_ something to him.

“As if Mommy would have been happy with how you remarried two months after she died,” Tony spat out. “And how many divorces you’ve had since? Or how rich each and every single wife of yours has been? Including her? How about how she would have felt when my last stepmother was barely even five years older than me! Or what about all of the times that you thought it was fine to smack me around because you were drunk, or…”

The punch to the face wasn’t completely unexpected, but Tony was out of practice dodging his father, and Senior wasn’t drunk yet. So yeah. Senior had punched him in the face, hard, in public. Tony found himself sprawled on the ground, feeling for his teeth with his tongue. Tony saw that the principal was about to come after them, but Senior dragged him up and practically threw him into the car, and they drove off before anyone could do anything. He sat in complete silence, looking out the window while Senior continued to rail at him as he drove. The whole side of his face was swollen, and he had a split lip and a black eye, but luckily he didn’t have a broken nose. But it wasn’t like this was the first time Father had done this to him, so he just ignored the man as completely as he could.

Tony had been taken home to Long Island that day, but as soon as the bruises on his face cleared up and nobody could tell that Senior had punched him in the face, he was immediately shipped off to military school in Rhode Island. A driver had come to pick him up and take him to the nearest Amtrak station, handing him a one way ticket to Providence. So the last time he’d seen his father was when Senior had driven him home to Long Island to wait out the black eye. Senior hadn’t even come in, just dropped him off and sped off without looking back. No doubt going back to his hopefully old enough to legally consent girlfriend or wife or hooker or whatever the hell it was Senior did that made him too busy to be a father to his only child.

A little over two decades might have passed, but the sting of the acrimonious parting, the terrible words Senior had said to him, it was all still fresh in his mind. Tony wondered, really, if anyone ever got over being rejected by their own father. Because he would like to know how to do that. He’d had a shrink help him through the rehab of losing a limb, and his reintegration into ‘normal’ life, and of course they had spoken about Senior a little during that time. And even with therapy, Tony still hadn’t figured out how to get over being someone so unimportant that his own father threw him away like a worthless piece of trash. He’d only been sent to those schools because Senior hadn’t wanted to look bad in front of people. Everything had been about how people perceived Senior, and Tony was just an accessory to the man, not a living, breathing, sentient being. And once Tony refused to be the accessory, refused to adorn Senior’s life like an expensive rug or painting, refused to be someone Senior could say ‘my son who is attending insert-prestigious-private-boarding-school-name-here is on the Dean’s list and on his way to the Ivy Leagues’, he was immediately discarded. Better to not have a son than to have a son who was a loser. And he’d always wondered if maybe the reason why Senior had cut him off so thoroughly was because he might have had another child. Maybe another son to take his place. Tony even wondered if there were two Anthony DiNozzo Juniors running around, because his father would never be able to call a boy anything but Junior. But he’d never had the guts to find out if this was true so he really didn’t know if he had any half siblings running around.

So yeah, after all of that, he definitely needed to go make sure for himself that this was Senior. That his father, the man who had shaped him to be who he was, was dead. The whole time Tony had been in college and then enlisted in the Navy, he’d just been waiting to hear from him. He wasn’t expecting any kind of apology, but he’d been hoping for some kind of message, some kind of communication. Even if all the man did was ask him for money, he would have been gratified by some acknowledgement of his existence. But for all these years, it had been radio silence between them.

Tony struggled to free himself from the blankets that he’d piled on himself and reached for his crutches, trying to get himself out of his incredibly comfortable recliner. Baez had thrown the agents out and was at his side, gently pulling him upright and making sure the crutches were secure before backing off. Tony hated for anyone to do anything for him. As if he were an invalid. Or a cripple. Or a child. He might have lost a leg, but he hasn’t lost anything else. Not especially his pride, if Baez’s mutterings were to be believed.

But they hadn’t been kind to him during his capture. They’d inflicted pain, broken a few bones, and taken his prosthetic away, to humiliate him or disable him, whatever. And really, it wasn’t that big a deal, losing the prosthetic itself. It wasn’t like he was completely helpless without it. He was still a more than able man, and a trained SEAL. He wasn’t at all helpless. But the fact that they’d focused a lot of the torture on what was left of the leg, especially the site where the amputation had happened, he wouldn’t lie. He had no words for the kind of pain that had been when they used a blowtorch on him. His residual limb had taken the brunt of the torture. And burns were a bitch to heal.

And what was worse now, he needed to give his leg more time to heal before he could be fitted for a new prosthetic, which meant a lot more physical therapy was in his future. And it also meant he really was gimpy in the meantime. Back to crutches. And this time, he was back on base where his men could see him. Where Baez and Baylor and McCloud and a bunch of the others kept ‘stopping by’ all day, when all he wanted to do was hole up and either die alone or hide until he was better, both physically and mentally. It was a challenge to be in command when he was this messed up in the head. Not that he was supposed to be working. But still.

After, well, _after_ he’d first lost his leg, all those months he’d been at Walter Reed, rehabbing and getting physical therapy, talk therapy, all the therapy in the world to help him adjust to his new state of being, he’d managed to block all visitors. He didn’t want anyone to see him struggle, he didn’t want to need anyone to get over this, because he needed to be able to stand alone. All his life, he’d had to stand on his own two feet, and now that he was one leg down, he needed to learn how to stand on his own one remaining leg. Not that his therapists had laughed at that little joke of his. His therapists had tried to get him to at least see a few of his team mates, the ones he’d been closest with, but he’d only agreed to see Baez once, to make sure he was OK and to thank him for saving his life. He’d also called the families of his men who hadn’t made it out of the op, to speak to them personally, once he was off the good drugs and more coherent. That was his responsibility, after all. But after that, he’d remained in isolation, refusing to see anyone he knew other than the medical personnel at Walter Reed. It had been a lonely and difficult time, but Tony wouldn’t have it any other way. He _couldn’t_ have it any other way.

But this time he wasn’t injured enough to have to go back to Walter Reed. And besides, he’d had enough of that place. Six months of therapy and rehab was enough for a lifetime. Tony didn’t want to stay in any hospital a minute more than he needed to. Even if it meant his men would be around, babying him through this. But he had been hoping he’d be able to stay out of sight at least until he wasn’t so weak anymore, maybe even until his leg was healed enough for him to wear a prosthetic again. Unfortunately, he couldn’t just hide from his men this time around. But now Gibbs had come to tell him that his father had died. This whole thing about Senior felt completely surreal. It couldn’t be real. He was sure that they had made a mistake. His father couldn’t possibly actually be dead. He’d been such a focus of Tony’s life when he’d been younger, he’d wasted so much of his young life wanting his father’s attention, his father’s approval, maybe even his love, and nothing he’d ever done had ever been enough. Then after that final conversation all those years ago, Tony had been thrown away like he was just a piece of garbage. He received that message loud and clear from the man: Tony was clearly not someone important to Senior. Tony wasn’t loved. And nothing he did would ever change that.

Tony was trying not to think about that part of his past too much. Maybe this was all some kind of mistake and they would find that Senior was alive and well, running around the world somewhere, still blithely ignoring his son. After all, people had their identities stolen every day, didn’t they? This could be one of those times. Father was probably somewhere in Manhattan, fucking a woman fifteen years younger than Tony, maybe even a new stepmother, and conning people out of their money. He couldn’t possibly be dead. Even if they had fingerprint confirmation, it could still be some kind of error.

Tony just knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until he had visual confirmation for himself. No matter what shape he was in, and no matter who would see what a mess he currently was. He _needed_ to see this man that they thought was his father. He needed to tell them it wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. Could it?

He tried to wave Baez away as he got ready to leave his quarters, but Baez had been with him for too long. They’d been friends and brothers for too long. Baez ended up picking out his clothes for him, even helped him button his shirt when his fingers shook too badly. Besides, the ring and pinky fingers of both his hands were in splints – they’d been broken during his weeks of internment – and he did have some problems with fine motor skills at times because of them, so he didn’t feel too bad about that. He couldn’t really feel too badly about anything right now. Everything was starting to feel numb and gray.

He was sharply jerked out of the numbness and saw that Baez was kneeling on the floor in front of where he was seated on the bed.

“You with me, Tony?” Baez asked him, concern filling his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. His cheek stung. Had Baez had to smack him to stop him from spiraling? Or was he just blushing and that’s why his face was hot? He didn’t rightly know.

“You might be in shock,” Baez told him, speaking slowly.

Tony shook his head.

“Let me take you to the infirmary,” Baez was saying. “We can go to NCIS tomorrow.”

Tony shook his head vehemently. “I have to see if it’s him, Lobo,” he had to convince Baez not to take him to the infirmary. He’d never escape them and he’d begged the Landstuhl doctors to release him to go home, not to go to yet another hospital.

“It’s him, _hermano_ ,” Baez told him, his gruff voice gentle and kind, making Tony’s eyes fill with tears. “It’s not just a phone call from random strangers telling you this. It’s the MCRT and they came to tell you in person. They wouldn’t have done this if they had any doubts. And before you say it, I don’t think they even suspected you of being involved. They came to inform you in person because they owe you that courtesy. Let’s take a couple of days at home first. You don’t need to do this to yourself.”

“I have to see if it’s him,” Tony repeated.

Baez sighed and nodded. “I know,” he said shortly.

And Tony knew that he did. They’d been through a lot together, he and Baez. Lobo knew practically everything about him. They had originally hated each other when they first met, Lobo thinking he was a privileged, entitled dick of an officer and Tony thinking Lobo was an asshole with a chip on his shoulder. And neither of them had been wrong with their assessment of the other. But it hadn’t taken them too long to figure out that they were pretty much cut from the same cloth when it came down to their dedication to the team and their need to excel at everything. Both men had had challenging childhoods, and both were self made men. They were about the same age – Tony enlisting after college, and Lobo enlisting after the death of his mother. Both men were orphans, or as good as, growing up with absentee fathers. They’d become unlikely friends, and Tony couldn’t even count the number of ways that he owed Baez everything, including his life, many times over. And Baez would say the same thing about him.

So Tony didn’t try to push him away, at least not right now, not when he didn’t have the energy to get himself to DC to see if this person that they claimed was his father really was his father, and that his father really was dead. He allowed Baez to help him put his jacket on and wind his scarf around his neck, and it was comforting to have someone fuss over him, for once. Baez also knew well enough not to help him walk to the car, even though he was using crutches with splints on two fingers on each hand. He was thankful that Baez knew what he could and couldn’t get away with.

“You going to get in trouble for playing hooky?” Tony asked, when Baez bundled him into the car and slipped into the driver’s seat.

“I told Baylor I needed to take you to DC.”

“Does he know why NCIS came to see me?”

“Nah, man. I talked to them in private and then just got them here instead of letting them run around making waves with Baylor.”

Tony nodded and muttered a soft thanks.

“Why don’t you get some shut eye while we’re on the road,” Baez suggested.

“I’m not an invalid,” Tony objected.

“Motherfucker, we just got you back after the _chingao_ Army lost you for three fucking weeks, OK?” Baez growled. “You’re supposed to be on bedrest, so close your fucking eyes, pretend like you’re in bed, and get some rest.” He devolved into muttering curse words in Spanish.

“You _do_ remember that I speak Spanish, _coño_ ,” Tony rolled his eyes. “I know what you’re saying.”

“Ask me how many fucks I give,” Baez handed him his sunglasses and slipped his own over his eyes. “Shut up. Put that on so you can look cool, while you’re in my car, will you? And if you’re wearing those and taking a nap, nobody will know. Unless you start drooling.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Tony relaxed into his seat, reclining it a little further. Sunglasses on, with Baez’s newest book on tape playing on the stereo, the tension slowly bled out of his body and he did end up napping most of the way to DC.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Physical abuse of a minor (Senior hits him), off screen mention of torture involving burning. Tony starts abusing drugs while in high school, he engages in sex and even takes money for it at times. 
> 
> I know I'm really behind in replying to your comments but I will catch up! Thank you so much for them! You guys are amazing and keep me going. I hope you continue to enjoy this story! <3
> 
> I'll have another chapter of Tony's POV tomorrow!


	5. Part Two: Tony (continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday y'alls! There are no extra warnings for this chapter ;)
> 
> I know that a few of you have asked about Greenie and his fate, I ask you to be patient with me and let the story unfold :D

**Part Two: Tony (continued)**

Baez’s hand on his shoulder had him awake in an instant, looking around, trying to assess the situation and decide on the best course of action.

“Easy, easy,” Baez murmured. “Stand down. We’re in friendly territory.”

Oh. They were just in Baez’s car. Tony sighed and relaxed back into the seat. It was difficult to stop assuming he was still in the field at times. It had been his life for too long. Waking up alert had saved his life on more than one occasion.

“Less than a klick from the Navy Yard now,” Baez warned him.

Right. The Navy Yard. It all came rushing back to him now. His father was supposed to be dead. Tony sat up and straightened his seat a little. There was a cup of coffee waiting for him, still hot. He’d slept like a baby, not even waking when Baez made a pit stop at a Starbucks drive through. He appreciated the thoughtfulness of making sure he would be awake and lucid enough for this. He didn’t think he was going to be able to rest without seeing this through, but apparently being in the car with Baez, something he’d been doing for years and years, relaxed him enough to allow him to get some much needed sleep. He remembered all those times that he used to ride around in the car with Baez with baby Spencer in the car seat in the back, trying to get the baby to nap while Baez drove, and how he used to also get his own catnap while Baez drove around with his sleeping son. Good times. That strategy still worked like a charm on Tony, evidently.

He sipped his coffee, humming happily because Baez had gone whole hog and gotten him hazelnut shots, whipped cream, and mini marshmallows. “I know you’re feeling bad for me if this is what you got me,” he grinned at his friend.

“Don’t get used to it. It physically hurt me to order it,” Baez made a face, sipping his own, no doubt, black as they could make it coffee. “You’ll lose your street cred, _coño_.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, your street cred is intact what with listening to Harry Potter on tape,” he made an insulting gesture to the story still playing on the car speakers.

“It’s _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_ ,” Baez corrected him primly.

Tony raised an eyebrow and snorted again.

“This is for Spencer, asshole,” Baez threw him a wry grin. “This way when he dorks out at me about Harry Potter and Hogwarts, I’ll know what the hell he’s talking about.”

“You’ve been watching the movies with us,” Tony sniffed.

“There’s so much more in the books.”

“I’ve read them.”

“Please,” Baez scoffed.

What? He _has_ read them. And not on tape. An actual book that he sat down and read. He just didn’t like for people to know that he had a weakness for sci fi/fantasy novels, including young adult fantasy and science fiction. And movies, too. Thank god for Spencer, who was conveniently, still his beard for kids and young adult novels and movies. Tony wasn’t good with kids, he really wasn’t. Most children hated him. But Spencer had come into Baez’s life, and therefore Tony’s life, when he was a baby and he was somehow missing that instinct that other kids seemed to have – a hatred of everything Tony DiNozzo. Spencer had loved him from the beginning. And when he was a tiny little toddler and Tony realized that he could take Spencer to watch animated children’s movies without looking like a lone adult pervert amongst the families with children, it raised Spencer’s esteem in Tony’s eyes even more and became something that they bonded over. Tony took his godfatherly duties seriously, so he and Spencer had always had their movie time together.

So he said nothing more about it to Baez. He didn’t want to give this part of him away. It was enough that Spencer knew about it, he didn’t need Baez to start giving him a hard time about his reading habits. He was supposed to be the scholar among them, reading all about battle techniques and warfare and history, Sun Tzu and the _Art of War_. He was supposed to know all the erudite information on history and the history of warfare. The serious stuff. He was not supposed to be the guy who geeked out about little boys who wanted to be wizards.

When they went through security to enter the Navy Yard compound, both of them handing over their IDs, Tony sat up straighter, trying to mentally prepare himself for what was to come. Even though really, he didn’t need to prepare himself. After all, it _wasn’t_ his father. It couldn’t be him. Surely it was some kind of mistake. He was convinced it was a mistake. And even if it wasn’t, it wasn’t like he and the old man had ever been tight. He hadn’t seen the man in over twenty years, and the last time they’d spoken, Senior had told him that he would die alone in the gutter. So it wasn’t as if it would be a great loss. In fact, it would probably be a relief if it _was_ his father. Right? Then he wouldn’t just be constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

A warm hand on his jiggling knee made him turn his head.

“ _Calma te_ ,” Baez murmured.

Tony nodded, murmuring back, “ _Si, si. Déjalo_.”

Tony couldn’t help but be reminded of the time, a couple of years before Spencer came into their lives, when Baez had been told about his father’s death. Baez’s father had left his mom and two older sisters when he’d been two years old. Baez had been raised by his mother with no contact with his father after the man left them. When his sister called to let him know that their father had died, Tony had made sure he took time off to go to the funeral with him. Had even gone with Baez to be there for him, to ensure that he wasn’t among strangers at such a time, without his brother with him. Had been there to meet with Baez’s father’s other family, one that Baez hadn’t even known existed. Three half sisters and a half brother that his father had apparently loved enough to stick around for and help raise, unlike him and his two sisters. And Tony had been there to steer him through the murky waters, charming the second family for him when Baez was numb with more than just grief. Tony had been the one standing in between Baez and everything else then, blocking him from even more pain. And now, their roles were reversed.

Tony could feel the reassuring wall that Baez had put up around them, both mentally and physically, since Baez was an intimidating man, half a foot taller than Tony, with the typical SEAL build of muscles without being overly bulky. SEALs needed to be agile and no one was better than Baez, despite him now being out of the field. Tony had ended up getting Baez as his Chief Warrant Officer, for the whole of SEAL Team Four, so Baez no longer went out on field ops. He’d done it rather than lose Baez, as Baez had been planning to quit after Margot had died, making him truly a single father.

Tony sighed when Baez parked the car. Shit. It was showtime and even though Tony really needed to do this, he truly did not want to. He was so messed up about this.

“You OK to walk this?” Baez asked, nodding at the slight distance between their parking spot and the entrance to the building.

Tony glared at him, insulted at the implication that he was too infirm to walk to the building, and noticed Baez smirking at him. He chugged the rest of his coffee before he reached into the back seat for his crutches, carefully allowing the tip of one to smack Baez gently in the head as he pulled it to the front. But he was grateful for what Baez had just done, dragged him back into himself instead of wallowing in the depths of his mind, a mind that was filled with confusing and depressing thoughts.

“Only easy day was yesterday,” Baez muttered as they both got out of the car.

“Hooyah,” Tony slammed his door shut, ensured that his sunglasses were securely in place and started moving towards the building, Baez walking with him.

They signed in and walked through the metal detectors, Tony hopping one legged through to where Baez waited with his crutches. Then they went up to the squad room, to check in with Gibbs. The elevator dinged and they walked out onto the orange floor and towards the section of desks that belonged to the MCRT.

“Commander DiNozzo, Chief Baez,” Gibbs nodded, standing up and nodding at them. Tony noticed his eyes widening a little but that was about the only sign of surprise he showed at seeing Tony. Tony glanced down, wondering what the man thought of what he was seeing today. One leg of Tony’s jeans had been sown up so it wouldn’t flap about, all empty, and he was wearing a t-shirt under a plaid shirt, and a jacket and the old lady scarf that Baez had wound around his neck. Even Agent Todd wouldn’t yell at him for parking in a handicap parking spot because he obviously looked like a grade-A cripple today.

“Agent Gibbs,” Tony greeted him politely. He gave Agent Todd, McWhatWasHisNameAgain? and Yates, the new one with the soft, sympathetic eyes and the incredible figure who had come with Gibbs earlier nods in greeting. Baez just grunted and scowled at everyone. Tony could practically feel the wave of protectiveness Baez was emanating, and he glared at Agent Todd with open suspicion and hostility.

Gibbs flashed Agent Todd his own warning glare before he turned back to Tony and Baez. “This way,” he jerked his head and the two SEALs followed as he led them back to the elevator.

When they got to the morgue level, they walked in to a room that was large and brightly lit, with steel tables lined up. An elderly gentleman was waiting for them.

“You remember Doctor Mallard, the Medical Examiner,” Tony was surprised at how polite Gibbs was right now. Wordy, even. Gibbs had never struck him as someone who would be polite and use more words than necessary. But there he was.

Tony and Baez nodded at the ME.

“Please, call me Ducky,” Doctor Mallard led them to the wall of drawers. Right. The doctor with the name of a duck who also called himself ‘Ducky’. Tony’s mind immediately went straight to _Pretty in Pink_ , although the doctor bore no resemblance to Jon Cryer, young or old.

The doctor opened the door to one of the drawers and Gibbs helped to slide the slab insert out a little, exposing a body covered with a clean, white sheet. Doctor Mallard gave them both a questioning look. Tony drew in a deep breath and nodded, signaling that he was ready. Mallard carefully pulled the sheet down, revealing a face that was at the same time incredibly familiar and yet so distant to him, a face that looked exactly the way Tony remembered him, except he looked so much older. Tony stared down at what he knew was definitely the body of his father. Father was dead. Father was really dead. He blew out a long breath and closed his eyes, and felt Baez’s warm hand on his arm. He nodded at Baez, forcing himself to breathe in and out, slowly. He didn’t know how this could even be. How could his father be dead?

“It’s really him,” he knew he sounded surprised but he couldn’t stop it. “He’s really…”

“ _Te acompaño_ ,” Baez murmured, assuring him that he was with him here. Tony held on to the feeling of Baez’s hand on his arm, anchoring him to the moment. Baez was right there, with him. He was OK. Baez would help him get through this.

“It’s my father,” Tony said shortly. He needed to get out of here before he lost it. He began turning away and making his way to the exit, his crutches tapping on the tile floors, making sharp noises with every step that he took, as if marking time. Time between when he didn’t know for sure that his father was dead, and the time after. He’d seen his father’s body now. It was real. And he didn’t want to look down at that face anymore. Not like this. It felt wrong, like a violation, somehow. When he heard the door to the drawer shut, he forced himself to turn back. “How did he die?” he asked. Because seriously, how had Senior manage to die after he got himself arrested for murder? How had this happened?

“We haven’t completed the autopsy yet, Commander DiNozzo,” Doctor Mallard told him, and Tony could hear the man’s voice, the soft Scottish brogue calming him for no reason that he could fathom. “We will know more once that is done.”

Tony nodded again. All he seemed to be capable of doing was nod. That and stay upright without keeling over. He was glad he had crutches today because his remaining leg was quite unsteady, and not just because of the ordeal of the past few weeks.

“He died in your custody?” Baez asked.

Doctor Mallard sighed. “He was found in a car by the Potomac this morning, by DC Metro. He was passed out at the wheel, his blood alcohol level was far above the legal limit, even at that hour, which meant he was quite intoxicated several hours earlier, presumably when he was driving the car in the middle of the night. The officers found a dead body in the trunk of that car, a man wearing Navy dress blues, which was why we were called in. When we got there, Mr DiNozzo was our prime suspect for murder, and then he collapsed while being transferred from Metro’s custody to ours. We administered CPR but were unable to revive him.”

“He just keeled over and died?” Tony found himself asking. He was starting to feel light headed, and there was a buzzing in his head. Maybe he was going to keel over and die, too. And the thought wasn’t that disturbing at the moment.

“That was how it appeared to be,” Mallard nodded.

“Was he sick?” Tony had countless questions. So many questions. How had this happened? How was his father dead? He was the one who put himself and his life on the line for his country. _He_ was the one who was supposed to die first. Not his stupid asshole of a father.

“We’re still waiting on his medical records and are working to determine what exactly happened,” Gibbs told them.

“Why did you come to inform me of this?” Tony asked. “He cut me off when I was twelve. He disowned me completely by the time I was sixteen. I haven’t seen him in over twenty years. He usually has a wife somewhere. Has she been informed?”

“Mr DiNozzo was just divorced about six months ago,” Gibbs said. “His most recent records list you as his next of kin.”

Tony stared at them, trying to control his expression, and all of the crazy thoughts in his head. And behind that, the whirlwind of emotions because his father was dead. Anthony DiNozzo Senior had died. Tony was the only Tony DiNozzo left in the world now, unless there was another more junior Tony DiNozzo than him that he didn’t even know about. But probably not, since Senior had, for whatever reason, designated Tony, the son he’d thrown out over twenty years ago as his next of kin? How desperate had he been to do that? The buzzing in his head was getting louder, starting to become a dull roar.

Baez’s grip on his arm tightened and made him look up. “You need to sit down,” Baez told him, his tone firm but gentle.

“I’m fine.” Even Tony could hear the weakness in the statement.

“Do you have somewhere we can sit and talk about what happened with the Commander’s father?” Baez ignored him, addressing the question to Gibbs.

“Yeah,” Gibbs led them to a room on a different floor, Doctor Mallard coming with them. The whole way there, Tony couldn’t focus on anything other than Baez’s reassuring bulk next to him, hand still gripping his arm firmly. Tony decided that he couldn’t really care about where they were going right now, as long as Baez was there, everything would be all right. He couldn’t hear anything except for the roaring in his head.

A glass of water was placed in his hand and he realized that he was sitting in a chair, his crutches leaning against the table right next to him.

“Drink that,” Baez ordered him.

Tony sipped at the water, and slowly he became more aware of what was going on around him. The dull roar in his ears receded and he was able to breathe easier. Doctor Mallard had blood pressure cuffs around his upper arm and he was clucking with concern at the reading.

“Mr Palmer, would you be so kind as to bring young Anthony here a small snack?” the Scotsman asked. “Something sweet.”

“Of course, Doctor Mallard,” Tony turned to see a lanky young man with glasses, wearing scrubs, nod and scamper off.

“Drink all that water,” Baez told him.

Tony gulped down the rest of the glass, thirsty all of a sudden before he glared at Baez. “Who’s giving who orders here, Lobo?” he snarked.

Baez grinned at him. “He’s fine now, Doctor Mallard. That’s practically normal for him.”

“Oh, my dear Alejandro, as I have already asked you to, do please call me Ducky,” Mallard turned to Baez, and Tony raised his eyebrows at Baez, mouthing ‘Alejandro?’ at him. Baez shrugged, making a face. Baez _never_ went by his first name. It was one of his things. Like Tony, Baez was a ‘Junior’ and he’d chosen to reject his father by rejecting their shared first name. He was always either Baez, or Chief, or Lobo, although for the most part it was only Tony’s old five-man team that called him Lobo. Even Margot had called him Baez and they’d been husband and wife.

Another glass of water and two candy bars were placed in front of him by Mr Palmer, who turned out to be Ducky’s assistant. Hence the scrubs. He was the Medical Examiner’s assistant, after all. He did autopsies. Palmer was unobtrusive but he was there, and Tony couldn’t help but picture him to be the gremlin on the airplane wings, trying to take apart the plane and bring it down. Were there such things as autopsy gremlins? Not that he thought that Palmer would sabotage an autopsy, but he would certainly be there and not be underfoot, making the autopsy go smoothly? Besides weren’t autopsies taking apart of people, like gremlins would take apart equipment? Tony wondered if he’d worked on Senior, because he’d just seen it with his own eyes, that Senior was dead on a slab in the morgue here at the Navy Yard.

“Eat,” Baez pushed a Hershey’s almond and milk chocolate bar at him, already torn open.

Tony rolled his eyes, but didn’t object, taking small bites until he was sure that he wasn’t going to embarrass himself by throwing up or something. He was really feeling out of it and the meds they had him on was definitely messing with him. His whole body was aching, and his fingers and ribs were especially hurting, and his stump was definitely killing him right now. Baez slid a couple of pills in front of him, and he couldn’t help but whine. These were the good pain pills. The ones that made him loopy. He hated them, but he also knew that he needed them for the time being.

“Take those, we’ll get your questions answered quickly, and get you in the car before the pills take effect,” Baez muttered in an undertone to him.

Tony sighed. It was a good plan. He pouted, although he took the meds without further argument as Gibbs and Agent Yates walked back into the room. Tony looked around and realized that he was in a conference room. The agents settled down across the table from him.

“Are you feeling alright, Commander?” Yates asked him.

He waved away their concern, slowly working his way through the first candy bar.

“He shouldn’t be up and about yet,” Ducky informed the agents.

“He only got himself released from Landstuhl by promising he’d be on strict bedrest for a week,” Baez added, telling on him, the traitor.

Tony rolled his eyes.

“But we’re burning daylight. Commander, let’s get your questions answered as best as NCIS can at this moment, and we can head out?” Baez was taking charge without stepping on Tony’s toes, which he appreciated because the one legged gimp with all the broken fingers and the bruises and the crutches was definitely not as intimidating as the whole, 6’ 7” ridiculously fit specimen that Baez was. Tony only had five toes left to step on and he appreciated Baez not doing it.

Gibbs and Agent Yates gave them both a rundown of what they did know, and Tony was fascinated to know that his father had been married and divorced a total of seven times in the time that they’d been estranged. The last two of his ex-stepmothers were quite a few years younger than he was, which made him shudder. They were trying to figure out why Senior had been in town, and a connection between Senior and the dead guy found in the trunk of his rented Rolls Royce.

“Did you say he was driving a Rolls?” Baez wanted to confirm.

Gibbs and Yates both nodded.

“What a dick,” Baez muttered.

Tony grunted an agreement. “Well, I guess he’s still up to his usual tricks. Let me see, back when I was little, it seemed that whenever he brought my mother and me to DC we would always stay at the… Adams House Hotel, I think? He used to claim that they made the best steaks in DC.”

“We’ll check on that,” Gibbs gave Yates a look.

“And he didn’t contact you at all to tell you he was in town?” Yates asked.

Tony made a face. “If he did, which I would say is highly unlikely, I haven’t gotten to my voicemail yet. Baylor tells me he won’t get me a replacement phone until I… I’m better.”

“If you don’t mind, what happened to you?” Yates again, looking like she was carefully choosing her words.

“Can’t say much, it’s all classified. Let’s just say that due to poor planning, the Army ‘lost’ me for a few weeks in unfriendly territory?” Tony said grimly.

Baez let out a wordless, angry snarl. “Last time we ever let you out of our sights without a SEAL Team escorting you,” he growled.

“I know,” Tony smiled at him. “I know. So, if Senior did call me, which again, why would he after all these years of silence, I wouldn’t know since my phone wasn’t recovered when my team recovered me. But it’s seriously a moot point. He wouldn’t have called me. I wouldn’t think that he’d even know my number.”

“Are you sure?” Yates prodded.

“He probably didn’t even know where I’m stationed at, or even if I was still alive,” Tony scoffed. “He couldn’t keep track of where I was when I was his responsibility, there’s no way he’d know anything about me now.”

There was that time that Senior accidentally left him in a hotel in Hawaii. He’d just turned twelve that summer and Senior had needed him to make himself look like a good father, to woo some clients or whatever big business deal he was working on, and at the end of it, he’d just flown back to New York and completely forgotten that he’d brought Tony with him. Tony had been having a good, if lonely time, though, ordering room service and hanging out on the beach, learning how to surf, enjoying pool time and Pay Per View in his room, when the hotel manager came knocking on his door. Senior had called the hotel, claiming credit card fraud, because he was still being charged for room service and other charges even though he’d supposedly checked out three days ago. Senior had left him for three days, and didn’t even know that it had happened until the manager called him back to let him know that the person supposedly committing credit card fraud was his twelve year old son, who he’d forgotten to take home with him. Yeah, so if Senior couldn’t even remember the whereabouts of a twelve year old , his only child, who was staying in the same suite as he was at the hotel, then why would he have a clue of Tony’s whereabouts or phone number or anything else now that Tony was a fully grown independent man? The last time Tony had tried to get in touch with him had been a voicemail he’d left for Senior, letting him know that he was enlisting in the Navy after the college graduation ceremony that Senior hadn’t deigned to attend. That was a long time ago now.

“Is there anything else you need from us right now?” Baez asked the agents, who both shook their heads.

“Thank you for coming in today,” Yates shook his and Baez’s hands.

“I’ll walk you out,” Gibbs told them.

Gibbs waited with Tony while Baez insisted he drive the car up to the building instead of making Tony walk the distance, and even though Tony muttered some complaints, he didn’t object too strongly when Baez loped off.

“Are you _sure_ he listed me as his next of kin?” Tony couldn’t help but ask Gibbs again.

Gibbs nodded. “Yeah. You. Only you.”

“Did he just change that recently?”

“No way to know that without looking at his medical records in depth, which we haven’t done yet.”

“But he could have had other children.”

“He could have, but he didn’t name them his next of kin.”

Could Tony have brothers or sisters out there that he didn’t know about? Like Baez did? He wasn’t sure whether that would be good or bad.

“And for what it’s worth,” Gibbs was still speaking. “It didn’t look like there were any other children, from what we could tell of our preliminary background check.”

Tony sighed and resisted the urge to knead his bad leg. He’d probably fall on his ass if he let go of even one of his crutches right now. He just had to wait it out. The residual limb was hurting badly, but he could feel that buzz of the painkillers seeping into his bloodstream, starting to dull it, as well as everything else.

“What happened to you?” Gibbs wanted to know.

“Nothing McCloud couldn’t fix,” Tony gave him a dreamy smile. Oh yeah. The drugs were kicking in now. He was all floaty and fuzzy, and he hated that he had to hold on to the crutches because he just wanted to put his fings – fingings – what were they called? – those things at the end of his hands, and he still had all ten of them unlike the things on feet which he had only five left, but yeah he wanted to put them all over Gibbs’ face and just touch him and feel him although maybe not touch his pretty blue eyes because that would hurt him. No matter how pretty his eyes were. But he couldn’t do that, because he had to hold on to the crutches or he would just float away into the air and floating away would make Baez mad. Baez would have to call the guys to come retrieve him and he couldn’t put them through all that trouble all over again, after all they’d gone through to get him home just a week ago.

“Iraq or Afghanistan? Who kept you prisoner?” Gibbs prodded.

Did it sound like he actually cared? Like he wanted to just go over there and take them down for him? Tony smiled at him, trying to find the words to tell him he didn’t need to because Mac had come in and saved the day and no one was left to rue the day they took Tony prisoner. It was done. SEAL Team Four would never leave a job unfinished.

But Baez was back now and ushering Tony away, giving Gibbs a pointed glare.

“Keep us posted on this case?” Baez asked.

Tony turned his head to look at Gibbs, with the pretty, pretty blue eyes, as he moved with Baez. Baez was his brother, the wolf. Baez was his Lobo. His little wolf, his Lobito, who was definitely not little but was definitely a wolf. And that was a good thing because wolves didn’t have those finging things at the end of their hands so he didn’t even need to remember what they were called. What were they called again?

“Of course,” Tony heard Gibbs answer, even though he was too busy floating away and telling Baez to just let him loose so he could fly home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this!
> 
> I'll have the next chapter tomorrow! We go back to Gibbs' POV tomorrow. <3 <3


	6. Part Three: Gibbs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that given the subject matter in the preceding two chapters, I upped the rating to Mature from Teen, since there were some fairly heavy topics that the story went into. Beside I should probably take into account my use of foul language :D I know I have a potty mouth. But other than that, no new warnings.
> 
> This chapter contains spoilers for s09xe10 Sins of the Father. For a transcript of the episode, you can [click here](https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=ncis&episode=s09e10). Bear in mind that I did twist some things around in order to fit this AU but there are definitely spoilers for the episode :D

**Part Three: Gibbs**

Gibbs watched as Chief Baez helped his commanding officer away from the building and into the waiting car. Tony was so out of it by that time that he was babbling on and on about floating away and Baez had put one of Tony’s arms around his shoulders and was acting as his other crutch. Tony was pretty out of it by then and he definitely could understand why Baez wanted to get him back to base and back to where he would be protected from prying eyes and ears. But he did wish that he could have at least found out what happened to the man because maybe it would mean there could be something he could do to help make things better for Tony. No matter how much he wanted to have taken the opportunity to give the Commander a hug while Baez when to get the car, he knew that it would have been wrong to take advantage of the Commander’s state to do that, so he jammed his hands in his pockets and stood there, talking to him.

Earlier, Gibbs had walked in on Baez making his CO take painkillers, so he knew that when Tony had smiled at him, pupils dilated, while Baez ran to get the car, that he was succumbing to the effects. It didn’t take Baez long at all to get back, and now here Baez was, and he kept reassuring the Commander that he was there and wouldn’t let him just float away every time Tony told him he was floating away and he could just fly home if Baez were to let him go. Baez just kept asking him to hold on a little bit longer for him. Gibbs could see how much Baez just wanted to pick the man up and deposit him in the car, but he knew he was not going to do it in public, not where anyone could see him manhandle his commanding officer. Baez wouldn’t ever let his CO look weak in anybody’s eyes, because DiNozzo wasn’t weak, not by any means. Gibbs knew that he was one tough motherfucker. Anyone who’d been captured and tortured would be in the same boat, or be in worse shape than Tony was in right now.

He stood and watched the road, long after Baez’s car had disappeared from sight, completely absorbed by Tony. Gibbs had tried not to let anything show on his face when he first saw Tony, on crutches, in the bullpen. He looked so pale that a stiff breeze would have knocked him over, but he was determined to see the body of his father. Gibbs could tell that Baez wanted to keep the appointment short, so he immediately took them down to autopsy. He couldn’t help but give sidelong glances at Tony who was pale and grim faced. To see the sewn up pants leg had definitely been a shock and Gibbs was glad that at least Kate had kept her mouth shut in front of the SEALs. Tony’s dogtags were peeking through under the big scarf he had wound around his neck, and for some reason Gibbs found himself wanting to just straighten out the scarf and maybe run his fingers over the dogtags. But he kept his hands to himself and focused on the work that they had to do.

His heart just about broke when Tony was confronted with the indisputable truth: that his father had died. It really did seem like a cruel thing to happen to someone after the kind of ordeal he seemed to have suffered in the past few weeks. Still, he couldn’t help but admire the way Tony’s ass filled those jeans. Even after a few weeks of what had to be starvation, his ass was still a fine work of art.

Gibbs sighed and kept staring into the distance for a while longer. Finally, he turned away and went to get coffee before going back to the bullpen to see what his team was up to. Cassie wasn’t there, but McGee and Kate were. Gibbs hung back to figure out what it was they were up to.

“I’m serious, what the hell happened to Commander DiNozzo?” Kate was asking.

“I don’t know, Kate. But we’re supposed to be focusing on the Massey case. Commander DiNozzo isn’t involved in this,” McGee called back, not looking up from his computer screen.

“Yeah? But, how do we know that?”

“Didn’t you see him? He’s in no shape to take down Lieutenant Massey. The vic was still flying fighter pilots and fit. He played rugby and shit. On a good day, sure, I’d put money on Commander DiNozzo being able to take him. But now? No. Commander DiNozzo is injured. That wasn’t just a papercut he had.”

“He’s playing it up to make us think he’s innocent.”

“Kate…” McGee tried to get her off this train of thought. “Seriously?”

“It’s a ploy and I’m not falling for it,” Kate set her jaw.

“So you’re saying that Commander DiNozzo killed Massey, stuck him in the trunk of the car, and what…? Force fed his own father alcohol to set him up as the patsy?” McGee’s tone was disbelieving.

“I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“He’s in no shape to carry a dead weight around.”

“He could be faking those injuries.”

“You can’t fake an amputated leg, Kate.”

“He just forwent his prosthetic today to make us think he’s not the guy.”

“What about the fact that he’s just arrived back from Ramstein last night?”

“Plenty of time to go kill Massey and do whatever to his father. Maybe he poisoned his father. Maybe Massey was getting close to his father and Massey was replacing him? We should check DiNozzo Senior’s will to see who inherits.”

“You owe me twenty bucks,” Cassie’s voice in Gibbs’ ear made him jump.

He snorted, giving Cassie a look.

“I didn’t take that bet,” he objected.

“Hmph,” Cassie shook her head. “Predictable. And stubborn. She’s like a dog with a bone. She’s already made up her mind as to who is guilty of this. Why bother to investigate?”

“Yeah,” Gibbs sighed.

“Time to fix this attitude,” Cassie rolled her eyes.

They walked into the bullpen and Kate fell silent, looking up with undisguised resentment at Cassie. Gibbs suppressed a sigh.

“I hear you like Commander DiNozzo for the murder of Massey, despite the lack of a motive, or means, or opportunity,” Yates directed her statement to Kate, who started to bristle. “I was expecting this, so I’m here to head this off at the pass with actual hard facts instead of innuendo and suppositions.”

Kate looked like she was gritting her teeth but she held her tongue.

“For the record, I looked into Commander DiNozzos’ whereabouts last night, and the answer to this goes back a few weeks. He was in an undisclosed location in the middle east for almost five weeks. Several days on a base, working on something so classified that even my sources at Homeland and NSA couldn’t tell me anything about it,” Cassie glanced around to make sure everyone was paying attention. “Then when he had actually completed his mission, on his way back to base, his Humvee hit an IED. The Humvee driver died, but DiNozzo and a young private made it. DiNozzo ordered the private to radio in so they were able to disclose their coordinates and inform the base of what was happening, and DiNozzo recommended the op be scrapped and security measures increased. Then he and the private were apparently taken prisoner by enemy combatants.”

Kate’s eyes were huge, as were McGee’s.

“By whom?” McGee asked.

“Classified, although based on what I saw of what was left of the IED and what looked to be evidence of at least nine dead unfriendlies left at the coordinates where their Humvee was found, I would guess some kind of Kurdish rebels?” Cassie bit her lip, and her cheeks dimpled. “DiNozzo and the Private were captured but the base commander tried to downplay it. A SEAL Team Four subteam, led by Lieutenant Commander McCloud went out there demanding answers, and it took them three weeks to track down and rescue DiNozzo. Both DiNozzo and the Private were mostly starved during captivity, but the Private reported that DiNozzo had taken the brunt of the torture. He claimed that the Commander drew their attention on purpose to spare him as much of their treatment as he could, and he kept telling him to be strong and that help would come. That McCloud and his men would come get them.”

“And he was right,” McGee gasped, eyes wide.

“DiNozzo suffered multiple injuries, on top of starvation and dehydration. Broken and fractured ribs, multiple broken fingers, multiple bruises and lacerations, rope burns from where he was restrained, including around his neck, and third degree burns on what is left of his amputated leg,” Cassie continued.

Even Kate gasped at that.

“They’ve grafted what they can back on to Commander DiNozzo’s residual limb,” Cassie turned to look at Kate. “These are not wounds that he made up, and he was in Landstuhl Regional Medical Center for a week. Until the burns are healed, which might take several more weeks, he will be unable to use a prosthetic. Probably longer, depending on how he heals and his overall condition. As to the timeline with regard to his arrival back Stateside, he flew in from Ramstein Air Force Base, arriving on a transport late last night, and was escorted by McCloud, Baez and several more of his men directly to his quarters at Little Creek where the men stood guard overnight.”

“Why would they stand guard?” Kate frowned.

“Because their Commander was MIA and he wasn’t even supposed to be ‘in action’, Agent Todd,” Gibbs snapped. “Because they thought he was dead and they wanted to make sure he was OK. For fuck’s sake. Snap out of this snit and act like a fucking human being, could you? Better yet, act like a professional and work the goddamned case based on facts and evidence and not your stupid preconceived notions of who is or isn’t guilty. Never assume. _Always_ fucking double check. And I think Cassie has double checked this for you.”

Kate closed her mouth with a loud clack of teeth and turned bright red before she nodded. Gibbs didn’t think that this would be the last of it, but at least she wasn’t bad mouthing Tony any further.

“McGee, what do you got?” Gibbs turned to the junior agent. “What do we know about the first vic, Lieutenant Dean Massey?”

McGee went through what they had found out so far. Lieutenant Dean Massey had graduated from the University of Virginia. All-America rugby player. OCS at Newport. Flight training at Pensacola. Recently divorced, no children. He flew fighter jets for the Navy during the Gulf War, and had remained a reservist. Currently he was a successful multimillionaire land developer, staying in the Reserves so he could continue to fly supersonic aircrafts.

“What about the car?” Gibbs asked.

“Rented. Under DiNozzo’s name. At a rate of fifteen hundred dollars a day,” McGee shook his head.

“Why would he rent a Rolls Royce?” Yates wondered.

Gibbs couldn’t help but agree with Baez’s assessment of DiNozzo Senior and a Rolls. Baez had called him a dick, Tony hadn’t disagreed, and neither could Gibbs. It definitely felt like a dick move to rent a Rolls Royce just to close a business deal.

Gibbs had asked his team to find out why a Reservist, not on active duty was wearing his uniform that night. And find the connection between Massey and DiNozzo Senior. Kate had been sent to interview Massey’s ex wife, Cassie was tracking DiNozzo Senior’s movements starting with the Adams House Hotel which was where he was staying according to his credit card records, and McGee was to look into Massey’s movements. They needed to figure out the timelines of both their vics, and figure out where they intersected. Gibbs was going to look into DiNozzo Senior to see what else he could find out about the now dead DiNozzo. He owed it to Tony to figure out what happened here.

He kept thinking of the details that Cassie had managed to dig up regarding what had happened to Tony since he fell out of touch with Gibbs. He couldn’t believe just how much of a badass the Commander was. He’d known it before when they learned about the Commander and how he’d fought back, refusing to give in to his new disabled status and get back into shape, and he knew it was even more true now, after what Cassie had dug up. He’d been a prisoner of war, tortured, starved, and his already busted leg busted up even further, so much so that he couldn’t wear a prosthetic for a while. He’d protected someone else as much as he could, trying to draw attention away from some young kid. Gibbs could absolutely understand that but how many people would have thrown the kid to the wolves in order to survive? This whole thing with Senior, he was supposed to be on bedrest, and yet he wasn’t taking anything lying down. He’d come to DC to look at his father’s body, crutches and all.

But Gibbs couldn’t believe the change in DiNozzo’s appearance. Just a few short weeks ago, he had been the picture of health, he was running and sparring, jumping, swimming, whatever it was SEALs did to train. He was training alongside his men, with or without a second leg. But weeks of captivity, torture and starvation had changed all that. He was skinny and gaunt, and going around on crutches instead of walking proudly with prosthetics. Gibbs had seen the rope burns around his neck and wrists, and the bruises from the beatings. Now he knew about the broken ribs. He found himself thankful that at least they hadn’t shot him, or broken Tony’s other leg, even though they had tortured his residual limb. He was at least still independently mobile. Gibbs could see how Tony would have not done well confined to a wheelchair. He had operated the crutches well, despite the fact that he had broken fingers on both hands. But it had been such a shock to see him with one pants leg sewn up. It had been jarring. And when he’d paled drastically and started weaving on his feet when they were still at the morgue, and Baez had asked for a place where they could sit and talk, Gibbs had truly appreciated Baez at that moment, giving Tony a place to sit without making it too obvious that his CO needed to sit down. Ducky had said that his blood pressure was low, and his blood sugar was probably low as well, and they had taken care of the man as he sat in the conference room.

It had broken Gibbs’ heart to see him sitting there, trying to process the death of his father, while he was still obviously struggling to recover from weeks of torture and captivity. He didn’t deserve this added complication, and hoped it wouldn’t hamper the man’s recovery. Gibbs wondered what Kate would make of this, because Kate had never seen action, had never been captured. It was something else to know that your fate was no longer in your hands, and to trust that someone would come for you. Kate didn’t understand that kind of faith or trust. She’d somehow gotten so bitter and cynical over the years. But Gibbs knew that Tony had had faith that McCloud would come for him, and he just needed to hold out. He had the strength to not give in. The degree to which he’d been tortured indicated his unwillingness to say anything. He’d just stayed strong and kept on believing that his men would come for him, strong enough to convince even the kid who was presumably a total stranger to him, that SEAL Team Four would rescue them. Gibbs wanted to speak to this Private who had survived with Tony, to get his side of the story. Had Tony really distracted the captors and ensured that they focused on him instead of some young kid? Had Tony kept this kid’s spirits up? What was Tony like under pressure? All things Gibbs wanted to know because he wanted to know _everything_ about the man.

But really, what he needed to do now was focus on this weird case so they could figure out who killed Dean Massey and why DiNozzo Senior had been asleep at the wheel of the car Massey was found dead in, and if he had murdered Massey.

Gibbs went to check in on Ducky. Abby was with him.

“What do you know, Duck?” he asked.

“Lieutenant Massey was killed elsewhere and then put in the car,” Ducky replied. “I’ve narrowed time of death to between midnight and 2 AM. Cause of death, as suspected, was blunt force trauma. A cylindrical wound to the back of the head. He was likely struck from behind.”

“Ducky pulled this glass fragment out of the wound,” Abby held up a sealed evidence bag. “Major Mass Spec and I will get to work on that. And I’m going to look for trace evidence on Lieutenant Massey’s uniform to see if I can figure out where he was last night.”

“What about Mr DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked.

“The standard tox screen came back negative,” Abby reported. “But his blood alcohol was 0.03.”

“Which means?”

“We drew the sample at 9:00 this morning. For a man of his weight, it decreases 0.02 each hour, so at 2 AM it would have been 0.15,” Ducky took up the narrative.

“That’s like, really drunk, Gibbs,” Abby’s eyes were huge.

“Even if Mr DiNozzo hadn’t expired on us, it’s highly likely that he would have no memory of what happened last night,” Ducky mused.

“In that condition, would it be possible for DiNozzo to kill someone like Massey with a blunt object?” Gibbs asked.

Ducky shrugged. “Possible, perhaps. But unlikely. However we cannot rule him out, yet, as it is still possible.”

“I’m waiting for the rest of the blood test to come back, though,” Abby added. “Standard tox screen results came back the quickest.”

“Cause of death for Mr DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked.

Ducky sighed. “It looks like it was a myocardial infarction.”

“Heart attack?” Gibbs frowned. “Any sign of foul play? Poison? Something that could look like a heart attack but be caused by something else?”

“It could be caused by all that alcohol he drank,” Ducky sighed. “His arteries were clogged, he wasn’t the fittest of men, he had lived a life of excess and unhealthy eating. It could be anything.”

“Keep me posted.”

“How was Tony, Bossman?” Abby’s question stopped Gibbs from turning away.

He turned back to face her and sighed. She had those big, sad eyes now. “He seems to be holding up,” he said softly. “He’s had a rough few weeks, but he’s strong.”

“The Team will get him through this,” Abby nodded, tears filling her eyes. “I’ll talk to Mac to see what we can do to help him.”

“That sounds good, Abs,” Gibbs gave her smile, before he left.

They kept digging into it, and by the end of the day, they had learned a number of things. A JAG lawyer, one Lieutenant Commander Mosner had come to report another viable suspect who had motive to murder Massey. Something about another pilot and Massey flying in formation and the other pilot and his radio officer having to eject over water, resulting in the death of the radio officer. Massey had come forward, claiming that Lieutenant Dennis was culpable, and it wasn’t caused by electrical failure, as he claimed. Gibbs and McGee had also spoken to Massey’s attorney and learned that DiNozzo was apparently in business with Massey. DiNozzo Senior was working on a land development deal with Massey, introducing Massey to Prince Omar Ibn Alwaan, who was an acquaintance of his going way back. He’d secured the prince’s backing for Massey’s Stoney Ridge Country Club Estates, a high end residential golf course community. It was why DiNozzo was in DC and shelling out the big bucks for the rented Rolls Royce. He stood to gain a lot of money from the deal.

“We’re all in shock,” Hunt, Massey’s lawyer said, when they met with him at Massey’s office. “Most of the employees have been sent home early. I stayed to plan a memorial for Dean.”

“I’m sure the news was upsetting,” McGee said. Gibbs was content to stay silent, wanting to see how McGee worked, and if the weeks with Cassie had changed him somewhat.

Hunt nodded. “Can I ask?” Hunt started. “We heard a rumor. Was Anthony DiNozzo arrested?”

Both Gibbs and McGee ignored the question, and Gibbs was pleased that McGee was playing it cool and ensuring that he was the one asking questions. “Was DiNozzo here yesterday afternoon?” McGee asked.

“Yes. DiNozzo met with Dean yesterday.”

“Were you with them in the meeting?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“DiNozzo came here expecting us to hand him a check. Massey wasn’t going to let that happen.”

“Why?”

Gibbs watched as Hunt’s face changed, his expression becoming more controlled. “Well, while it’s true that DiNozzo brought in a major piece of the financing, the deal had to be consummated within one year, and it wasn’t. According to a strict reading of our contract with DiNozzo, we did not have to pay the finder’s fee.”

“As the company’s lawyer, I assume that was your doing?” McGee asked.

“Well, no,” Hunt shook his head. “When it came to business, Dean Massey was ruthless. I tried to talk him into giving DiNozzo something, but he wouldn’t budge. I even called DiNozzo at his hotel afterward. I said, sit tight. I’d work on Massey.”

“Was DiNozzo upset?”

“Very.”

“How upset was DiNozzo when he left?”

“He was out of his mind. Uh…” Hunt looked cagey now. “I can show you.” He called his assistant, a beautiful woman called Linda, who came in and replayed a recording of Massey’s meeting with DiNozzo. Apparently Massey was ‘detail oriented’ and Hunt ascribed it to his military training, which both did and didn’t make sense. He claimed that all meetings in that room were recorded and that DiNozzo had known they were being recorded. They skipped to the last twenty seconds of the meeting, where Massey, Hunt and DiNozzo Senior were all in the room.

“Meeting’s over, DiNozzo,” Massey’s tone was condescending.

“You’re a cheating bastard. You’re not going to get away with this!” DiNozzo was furious.

“Yeah? Sue me,” Massey sneered at the older man.

“I’m not going to sue you. I’m going to kill you!” DiNozzo jumped on the Navy reservist, trying to punch his lights out.

Hunt was trying to keep the peace, and security was called in to pull DiNozzo Senior off Massey. DiNozzo was led out of the room, still yelling death threats at Massey. They were sent a copy of that damning recording. It didn’t look good for DiNozzo now that there was motive, but Gibbs found himself pleased with how McGee had conducted the questioning.

Kate returned to report that upon speaking to Massey’s ex-wife, it was clear that their divorce had been amicable. They had been happy early in their marriage, but after Massey left active duty, he went into real estate development and became a changed man, absolutely ruthless in business, obsessed with making money. He changed, and she got out of the marriage. She had no claim on his estate, and she was set for life. She had no reason to kill Massey, and given that they’d been divorced for over four years, she hadn’t even seen or spoken to him in months. They had no children, nothing to tie them together anymore. As to who benefited from Massey’s death? The ex had no idea, but recommended that they speak to Morgan Hunt, Massey’s lawyer.

They also interviewed Lieutenant Dennis, the pilot Massey had claimed was lying about an electrical failure that caused the death of a radio officer. He seemed surprised that Massey had died, and his alibi had been uncorroborated. But Gibbs wasn’t sure if he liked him for Massey’s murder. Why would the pilot have anything to do with the land development deal with DiNozzo? If he had been out to murder Massey, and DiNozzo had been sitting in his hotel room waiting for Hunt to get back to him, how would he and Massey and Dennis have crossed paths? But they did have to look into every avenue to try to unravel this mystery.

Abby was working on the Rolls to find trace evidence, trying to figure out where the murder occurred. Massey had wine stains on his jacket, and the glass extracted from his skull came from a bottle of vintage wine. So he’d been bludgeoned to death with a bottle of wine.

Another conversation with Hunt revealed that most of Massey’s estate was to be kept in trust for the Navy. All proceeds to go to various Navy charities, hospitals, veterans’ organizations, scholarship funds. The Navy had been Massey’s life.

Cassie had looked through DiNozzo Senior’s room, but she found nothing there. She started retracing his movements that night, starting from after the call from Hunt telling him to sit tight.

Everything was in motion, and all they had now were even more questions. But Gibbs was certain that they would figure it out. They always did. And throughout the day, his mind kept going back to Tony’s expression when viewing his father’s body. He’d seemed to crumple in on himself, gotten smaller. Gibbs could tell at that point, that he didn’t actually believe that his father was dead until he saw him. And he was having trouble accepting that reality.

Poor Tony. All Gibbs wanted to do now was just wrap him in a hug and just hold him. Tony seemed like the kind of guy who never let people see his inner self, someone who hid behind that mask of command that he wore so well. At times, during their text exchanges, there was that sly sense of humor, even some flirtatious banter. But today, Gibbs had glimpsed that side of him that was still just a little boy who had lost his father. Even though Gibbs was happy Baez was there to make sure that Tony was OK, he still wanted for it to be _him_ in that position. _He_ wanted to be the one that Tony took comfort from. He wanted to be the one to hold him close, give him soft kisses to help him feel better, and remind him that he was not alone, he wanted to rub his hand up and down Tony’s back until the man relaxed into his embrace. He wanted to be the one to anchor Tony to the ground, the way Baez had, when Tony was flying high on painkillers. He desperately wanted to just touch Tony, hug him, hold him close, protect him from all the hurts that came at him from all sides. He wanted to be the one to see Tony give up that iron self control, drop his masks, and allow himself to just feel what he was feeling. He wanted to be the only one Tony trusted that soft, inner core of himself to.

But of course, all he could do now was help solve the murder of Dean Massey and find out what had happened to DiNozzo Senior. He knew from his own personal experience that even though knowing the truth hurt, at least when one knew the truth and there wouldn’t be any unpleasant surprises looming in the future. It was, at least, closure. So he would definitely get to the bottom of what happened with Tony’s father. And since that was all he could do to help, he’d better get his head back in the game and stop wanting things that he couldn’t have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Tony's POV tomorrow! I'm catching up on replying to comments, too so thank you for that! I definitely love hearing your thoughts on the chapters
> 
> <3  
> -j  
> xoxo


	7. Part Four: Tony

**Part Four: Tony**

It had been fuzzy for a long time. Things were dark and blurry and kept going dark for a while but he just didn’t have the energy to care. Finally, Tony slowly swam back into consciousness. He found himself lying in his recliner. A movie was playing on his big TV screen but the volume turned down so low he couldn’t hear it, and Baez was sleeping on his couch. It was dark in the room, except for the flickering light from the TV.

His struggles to sit up woke Baez.

“Hey,” Baez jumped off the couch and helped him straighten the back of the recliner. “How are you feeling?”

Tony gave it a moment’s consideration. Everything still hurt, especially what was left of his leg, but all in all, he didn’t actually feel too awful. He felt like he was forgetting something but he couldn’t think of it at that point. “OK,” he croaked. Oh yeah. His throat was seriously dry.

“Hang on,” Baez left and came back with a glass of water. It had a straw in it. A bendy straw.

“Spencer?” Tony pointed to the straw. The ten year old still loved bendy straws, and Tony knew that he didn’t usually keep straws of any kind in his house.

Baez gave him a guilty chuckle. “Yeah. He’s sleeping in your bed right now, by the way. He didn’t want to leave you.”

“How long was I out?” Tony drank the water gratefully. He realized that there was an IV stuck in his wrist and he followed the line up to where a bag was hanging on an IV pole.

Baez noticed him noticing. “Yeah, I got Jonas to come help me,” he admitted. Jonas was their team field medic. “You’ve been out for thirty six hours.”

“What?” Tony frowned. Thirty six hours? That couldn’t be right.

“Yep. Jonas wanted to move you to the infirmary but I wouldn’t let him, so he brought the infirmary here,” Baez shrugged. “DC wiped you out. You were supposed to be on bedrest. Jonas wanted to kill me for taking you to DC so soon after leaving Landstuhl.”

Tony frowned. DC? When did he go to DC? Why would he go to DC? But then his memories of Gibbs and NCIS and Baez driving him there slammed back into him. Right. _Riiiiiight_. Of course. To see his father. Because his father was dead.

Shit. His father had died.

Baez’s hand on his shoulder made him look up. “I’m real sorry, bro,” Baez said softly.

Tony took in a deep breath and nodded. “I don’t know why it’s upsetting me so much,” he muttered. “It’s not like he was anything to me anymore.”

“He was still your father.”

“Fuck him.”

“Fuck him,” Baez agreed. “Still doesn’t stop him from being your father.”

Tony nodded. “Guess so.”

“You want to go to the shooting range and shoot the fuck out of some targets? That’ll make you feel better.”

“You always say the sweetest things,” Tony smiled at Baez.

“Only when Jonas says you can,” Baez qualified it.

Tony sighed explosively and pouted.

“You’re supposed to be on bedrest,” Baez reminded him.

“Spoil sport. Help me up,” Tony held out his hand.

Baez pulled him upright and handed him his crutches and Tony stared thoughtfully at the IV pole, trying to decide what to do about it.

“You’re gonna have to bring the IV with you. Jonas will definitely kill me if you remove it before he says you can. I kid you not, he will send you to the infirmary, and I will let him do it,” Baez told him.

Tony sighed. “Whatever.” He dragged the IV with him, discarding one of his crutches and using the IV pole as a second crutch of sorts. Made his way to the bathroom and relieved himself. He smiled at Spencer, sleeping in his bed, covers kicked off, one arm and one leg hanging off the bed. He dragged himself back to the living room and collapsed back into the recliner.

“Go pull the covers over Spencer and tuck him back in,” he told Baez. “I didn’t want to fall over doing it without a proper second crutch.”

Baez obeyed and then returned. “Hungry?”

Tony shook his head. “Nah. Tired.”

“Sleep, then.”

“Put _The Matrix_ on?” A little red pill blue pill might be nice in the background.

Baez silently padded to his movie collection, found the correct disc and switched out the movie that was playing. He brought a glass of water to the side table, where Tony could easily reach it, turned the lights off, and laid back down on the couch.

“Sorry to put you out, Lobo.”

“Shut up and go to sleep, _puta_.”

Tony smiled to himself at Baez’s gruffness and slowly relaxed. He was still kind of fuzzy and warm. Whatever was in that IV was pretty fucking good. He closed his eyes, and fell asleep, refusing to think about the fact that he was now truly an orphan. He could worry about that shit later.

The next time he woke up, it was full daylight. The blinds were pulled so the sun wasn’t shining directly on him, but it was definitely day time. He looked around, yawning and stretching carefully. His ribs were aching, but it wasn’t awful. Stump hurt like the dickens but it wasn’t as terrible as the phantom limb pain wracking his nonexistent leg. He closed his eyes and breathed, trying to visualize himself relaxing the leg muscles. Some days the pain was excruciating and apparently today was one of those days. No amount of drug therapy had helped with the phantom limb pain, so he went through the ritual of visualizing his legs, both of them, whole and intact, and relaxing the muscles of both of them, bit by bit. Starting with his toes, his feet, and working his way up his ankles, his calves, his knees, his thighs. He imagined himself rubbing the muscles on both legs with both of his hands, together. He breathed through the pain and pictured the muscles unlocking and relaxing. Slowly, the pain died down from excruciating to only slightly unbearable, and he relaxed his legs and his torso, gradually coaxing his body to release the tension coiled within him.

He breathed quietly, keeping his eyes closed, until he felt a little better. When he opened his eyes, Jonas, his medic was there, handing him a glass of water. He drank it and sighed.

“Every time I tell you this is the last time I’m going to patch you up, you fucking do something else stupid,” Jonas nagged.

Tony smiled at him.

“How are you feeling?”

Tony waggled his fingers. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to contain the sounds of pain that wanted to escape if he started talking.

“That bad, huh? I can give you something for it?” Jonas was giving him that medic look of his, calm and professional.

Tony shook his head. “Won’t help,” he gritted out.

“Phantom limb?”

Tony shrugged.

Jonas squeezed his shoulder. “What can I do?”

“Turn up the volume?” Tony pointed to the TV screen where it looked like the mayhem was about to start on _Jurassic Park_.

Jonas rolled his eyes and handed him the clicker. They drank coffee and ate food that Baylor delivered. Nothing heavy, oatmeal and fruit, and slowly he did start to feel better and the pain became a dull drone in the back of his head, something he could ignore without too much trouble. Jonas wrapped his leg and helped him into the shower, and then treated the deep lacerations and some of the burns that still needed to be tended. Tony was back in his recliner and wrapped in the blankets before long, feeling like a new man.

“Doctor C is coming to see you this evening,” Jonas told him, as he geared up to leave.

“What? Why?” Tony pouted.

“Standard protocol, Commander.”

“Boo.”

“Stop getting captured and tortured then.”

“That totally wasn’t my fault,” Tony knew that he sounded petulant but he couldn’t help it. Right from the start of his involvement in the op, he’d put in a formal recommendation that they move Voldemort the detainee to base instead of ferrying people out to a ‘secure’ location on a daily and predictable basis, but apparently Army didn’t think the SEALs knew what they were doing. He didn’t even think it was the thing about him having only one leg. It was just the usual stupid posturing between Army and Navy. It was dumb but it was what it was.

“Yes, sir. We know that.”

Jonas slipped out the door with a quick salute, and Baez entered.

“Is this the babysitting brigade?” Tony grumbled.

“Spencer would only go to school this morning after I told him I’d make sure you were OK,” Baez grinned.

Low blow. Tony could only imagine how upset Spencer would have been while he was gone and MIA when he wasn’t even supposed to be in action, and his condition upon his return. The poor kid had become somewhat anxious about losing Baez, and Tony, Baez’s best friend, after his mother had been murdered. Tony didn’t want Spencer to worry about him, given his current injuries. It was another good reason to hide himself from them, but he supposed at this point it was too late to hide. He pouted at Baez, who just laughed at him and settled down on the couch.

Tony magnanimously allowed Baez to choose what to put on the TV and they were watching football for a while before he asked. “Any news from NCIS?” he tried to sound all casual.

Baez shook his head. “It’s only been two days. Give ‘em time.”

Tony sighed and focused his attention back on the game. He wished that he had his phone because at least then he could check in with Gibbs to see what was happening with the case. And you know, just check in with him. He’d looked so concerned and caring when they’d come to inform him of his father’s death. And he hadn’t hovered too much when he’d seen Tony at a weak point, with the crutches and the needing to sit down and all that stupid shit. God, Tony hated that he’d had to go out looking like that. Nobody needed to see him unable to handle his own shit. Seriously.

A piece of popcorn hit him on his cheek and he turned in time for Baez to nail his forehead with another piece of popcorn.

“The fuck, Lobo?” he growled.

“You, stop what you’re doing,” Baez growled back.

“I’m not doing _anything_.”

Baez raised his eyebrows and gave him a significant look. “Uh-huh,” he nodded, eyes wide with facetious courtesy. “Stop beating yourself over the head with stupid shit,” Baez said sternly.

“I’m not,” Tony denied it.

Baez gave him another look. Shit. How did he know anyway what was in Tony’s head?

“I just wish I wasn’t dragging you guys down with me all the time,” Tony said morosely.

“For fuck’s sake, you’ve carried all of us out of the fire time and again, Bandit,” Baez slipped back to calling Tony by his old call sign. “Let us watch out for you this one time, huh? Bad enough you shut us out for months before you came back that last time.”

Tony hung his head.

“We’re your family, too,” Baez gentled his tone. “It’s a two way street. You’re not the only one who takes care of us. We take care of each other, or do we need to cut our palms again, asshole?”

Tony shrugged, although he grinned at the incredibly hazy memory of the two of them, drunk out of their minds at a bar after one of their very first ops as team mates, declaring their undying brotherly love for each other, and cutting their hands, clasping their bloodied palms together, and making each other blood brothers. That had been a hoot. Their CO had torn them a new one for their stupidity when they both ended up with bandaged hands. K-bars were sharp on sensitive palms, especially when both men had been too drunk to control how deep they were cutting.

“At least we didn’t get tattoos of each other’s names on our asses or something,” Baez chuckled, shaking his head, catching Tony’s eye and he knew they were both laughing at the same memory.

“That would have been harder to explain,” Tony snorted.

“So? Do we need to do this again? To remind you?” Baez pulled out his k-bar and held out his other hand, palm up.

“No,” Tony said meekly.

“Good,” Baez slid the knife back into its sheath. “Because, you know, your road trip to ‘find yourself’ after getting released from Walter Reed – also known as your ‘running away from home’ road trip, I’m pretty sure you’ve caught something from one of your many partners along the way and I don’t need to share _that_ with you.”

“Motherfucker, you know I always wrap up,” Tony threw a cushion at Baez’s face and Baez was laughing too hard to even care to bat it away. “Just for that, I’m going to go catch chlamydia and find a way to give it to you, even if my sexy, sexy body does not do anything for you.”

Baez only laughed harder.

That night when Doctor C arrived earlier than expected, Baez and Spencer were having dinner with Tony, and yelling at the TV at another football game that was on. Tony was still comfortably ensconced in his recliner, Baez and Spencer were on the couch.

“Chow, Doc?” Baez offered, pointing to the pizza boxes on the coffee table.

Doctor C sat in one of the comfortable armchairs, and picked up a slice of pepperoni and olive – Spencer’s favorite – and began eating. Tony observed silently, seeing how familiar Baez was with his therapist. He wondered if maybe Baez had had to have some sessions with her, or if she had spoken to Baez about Tony during his recovery. Although the man was one of those people who was always able to chat with people and make them comfortable with his presence if he wanted to. He could be intimidating as hell, of course. He didn’t even have to try to be intimidating for the most part, relying on his physical build to do it. But, he could turn on the charm if need be. So it could just be that Baez was just being friendly and making Doctor C feel comfortable and at home, especially since Spencer was present and Baez wouldn’t want any trouble in front of his son.

After they ate, Baez and Spencer cleaned up and threw the leftovers in Tony’s fridge, and Baez helped Tony up so he could hit the bathroom and after that he fussed with Tony’s pillows and blankets, making him as comfortable as possible, until Tony had to smack his hands away. Finally, he told Spencer to get his stuff so they could go home and start on Spencer’s homework. Typical of a ten year old, Spencer whined, but obeyed. The boy gave Tony a quick hug before he and his father left, and then Tony couldn’t delay it any longer. Doctor C was here to talk to him and there was just so much they could discuss. Tony didn’t even know where to start. What was there to say?

The doctor smiled at him. She was lovely, with huge, sympathetic brown eyes and her red-brown hair was loose around her face. She had that expression on her face that made her look soft and approachable. Tony liked to call it her ‘you can talk to me’ look. He sat silently in his comfortable recliner, and just raised an eyebrow at her. He liked to call it his ‘don’t bullshit a bullshitter’ look.

Doctor C laughed at him. Yeah. She knew that he knew what she was trying to do. “You want to just get it out of the way, Commander?” she asked, her voice light and musical.

Tony rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“I thought we agreed that it would be ten dollars in the jar for every time you say that?” she quirked an eyebrow.

“Even if I _am_ fine?”

Doctor C leaned back in the armchair and crossed her legs. “ _Are_ you?”

Tony sat for a long moment, trying to figure out how he felt. Finally he shrugged. “Probably not,” he admitted.

“Good move.”

“Admitting I have a problem is the first step, right?” Tony made a face.

“Do you have a problem?”

Tony sighed, muttering under his breath. This was the part he hated about therapy. Always with the questions instead of the answers. Why couldn’t someone just _tell_ him what it was he was supposed to feel so he could get with the program and recover already? It would be so much simpler instead of all of these conversations that he had to have about his _feelings_ and all of this _validation_ of himself.

“Do we have to start from the beginning again, Commander?” Doctor C asked softly.

“Apparently,” Tony glowered.

“How about I ask you a question?”

“I think you just did.”

He ignored the look she gave him.

“Isn’t it against the rules to actually ask me things? Put ideas in my head?” he continued.

“Are you just asking questions in response to my question because you think it will annoy me?” she grinned. She knew he had a Masters in Psychology tucked away in his resume so he did know what she was trying to do with him. Which didn’t mean that the therapy wasn’t effective. Or amusing at times.

“Is it annoying you?” Tony couldn’t help but ask, tongue in cheek.

The doctor laughed and Tony laughed with her. Even back then, back during those first, miserable, confusing, depressing days of trying to come to terms with losing a limb, he had actually enjoyed some of the conversations he’d had with her. Back when he’d been so angry and depressed and withdrawn that he’d actually frightened away or even deceived a few of the first therapists he’d been assigned. But there was no getting around Doctor C and he both hated and loved her for it.

“Fine. What’s your question?” he sighed.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that that is still a question,” the doctor shook her head.

“I’d kill at _Jeopardy!_ ” Tony hummed the theme song. “Uncomfortable questions for a thousand, Alex!”

Doctor C waited a beat, ensuring that she had Tony’s full attention before she launched into her question. “So what’s bothering you more today: the inability to use a prosthetic for an indeterminate amount of time because you were captured, imprisoned and tortured by enemy combatants that you weren’t even supposed to be exposed to, or that your father died leaving you still alive and messing up that secret fantasy you had that one day if you were heroically killed in action and he was informed of your death and a flag delivered to him, that he would regret all of the ‘fucked up shit’ he did to you before walking out of your life when you were still a child?”

Tony sat and breathed for long minutes. Doctor C sat patiently, her expression never changing, just watching him. Tony didn’t even know what to do with that question, because just by walking in and looking at him, his therapist had managed to boil down all of the issues that were swirling through his psyche into one, extremely succinct, extremely potent question. Especially the second part of the question. The second option. How would she have even known that way back in the dim recesses of his mind, he’d wondered what his father’s reaction would have been to the news that his son had been a SEAL and killed in action? That his father had thrown away a kid who had amounted to something. Would it have made him regret his actions? Would he have wanted something he couldn’t have anymore, since Tony had died? Would it matter to him that his oldest son had died? Even in Tony’s secret fantasies he never imagined that he would still be an only child, what with Senior’s penchant for wives and for cheating on them. Tony had just never tried to look for them or even found out if they existed, because in order to seek out any errant half siblings that he might have, he would put himself in the same orbit as Senior, and he’d vowed not to ever be the one to broker a truce between them. He had done _nothing_ wrong to deserve whatever hell it was Senior had put him through. So he wasn’t going to be the one going to his father, hat in hand, begging for forgiveness.

But he hadn’t really thought that he would outlive the old man. Yeah, he’d been anxious about news of the old man – dead or arrested? That question he had kept fantasizing about, and he’d probably talked to Doctor C about this back during his recovery months. But it had always been a theoretical question. He was a SEAL. He voluntarily put himself at risk, and threw himself into dangerous situations, lethally dangerous situations, and that was his chosen career. He had been certain that he would be the one who died, and in his heart of hearts, he wanted his father to live every day of the rest of his miserable life regretting throwing away the one good thing that had come out of his marriage to Tony’s long-dead mother.

Having Doctor C put it so baldly stunned him. Yeah, sure, it had really bothered him to go around using his crutches. To let people see just how disabled he was. And the fact that his fingers were broken and his ribs were broken and he had burns and lacerations and bruises over other parts of his body, yeah, it hurt. Losing his independence and losing the control that he had over how people saw him, how people perceived him, that had been hard enough. But now with the news that his father was dead, and that Tony never got the chance to prove to the man that he wasn’t going to die alone in the gutter, that he wasn’t completely worthless and unloved, that seemed to eclipse the whole disabled amputee on crutches issue.

“The second, probably,” he whispered, suddenly unable to get his voice to cooperate fully.

Doctor C’s expression softened, and she was immediately sympathetic. “What have we concluded about your father during our past sessions?” she asked softly. “Do you remember?”

Tony nodded.

“Then tell me. What did you come to understand about your father during our previous sessions?”

Tony was wringing his hands in his blankets. “I am not responsible for Father’s actions. Father is the only person responsible for his actions. Not me.”

“Good. What else?”

“Whatever Father did or did not feel for me didn’t actually have anything to do with me as a person,” Tony knew he was stuttering but he couldn’t stop it. “I was just his convenient target.”

The doctor nodded gravely. “And most importantly?”

“What Father thought about me means absolutely nothing, and I am the one who controls my own fate and my own actions.”

“Good,” she smiled at him. “And now that he has died, how does that change any of these conclusions that you worked so hard to understand during our sessions back then?”

Tony thought for a long moment, trying to grasp at the thoughts that kept flying through his mind. “I guess…” a thread was beginning to appear and he pulled and tugged at it, needing to figure it out. “Nothing?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

Tony took a deep breath and blew it out. It was kind of cleansing. “Nothing,” he stated more firmly. Because Doctor C was right. Nothing had changed. His father was still the only person responsible for his own actions, Tony had always been a convenient target and nothing, not one interaction had actually been personal, and even though his father was dead now, it still did not matter what Senior might have thought about him. Because it only mattered what Tony thought about himself. Tony had the power to change his own thoughts and his own actions, Tony was responsible for himself and for his men, and that was a responsibility that he had willingly accepted. Tony hadn’t changed. His father hadn’t changed, other than going from being alive to being dead. So, nothing, really, had changed between he and Senior. But that made him think about the fact that he was still stuck on crutches for the next few weeks, until his bad leg was well enough to be fitted for a new prosthetic.

Tony snorted to himself. Maybe when the doctors cleared him for prosthetics again, he could tap into his trust fund and get himself an even more state of the art leg. Not robotics, he still didn’t trust that to work for him without bugs or glitches, especially since he needed to be able to swim in them, but maybe a new leg that would enable him to run even better. He’d been eyeing the upgraded model that the company had released recently, and it looked really amazing. So maybe he could splurge for an upgraded prosthetic leg.

But until his burns were completely healed, he was still stuck on crutches though. And then he would need to be refitted for new prosthetics, and it could take some time after that to receive the new custom made leg. And that depressed him again, and he deflated for a moment.

“At least you don’t have to downgrade to a wheelchair,” the doctor smiled at him.

Fuck her. She knew him much too well. Tony rolled his eyes at her because yes, good point. At least he was still upright. A wheelchair would have sucked, although he would have had to suck it up and bear with it. He’d been through worse than this with the leg. He could wait it out until he was well enough for a new prosthetic.

They sat in silence for a little while before Doctor C gave him an expectant look.

“What?” he asked, frowning at her. He’d had enough examining himself for a lifetime now and he didn’t want to do anymore of it today.

“How are you dealing with having your men, your family around you this time?” she asked.

Tony sighed. “It’s… fine?” he tried.

She laughed. “Seriously? You’re going with _that?_ Where’s my ten dollars?”

“It’s not awful, I guess,” he shrugged. “Except for the part where I’m pretty sure Baez carried me into my own house a couple of days ago – god I hope he went with the fireman carry and not the bridal –“ Tony shuddered dramatically before he continued, “and then between him and Jonas, they kept me drugged and asleep for two days?”

“This is after your little field trip to DC even though you were specifically supposed to be on bed rest?”

Tony made a face. “It’s all relative?”

The doctor smiled. “But you’re allowing them to help you. To see you when you aren’t at your best. To take the assistance that they are gladly offering.”

“Not like I have much of a choice,” Tony grumbled.

“You could have checked yourself into Walter Reed, or just stayed in Landstuhl a while longer.”

Tony pursed his lips because no more hospitals. Walter Reed, Landstuhl, it didn’t matter. Just no. “I guess,” he said grudgingly.

“It’s a good thing, you letting your men participate in your recovery this time.”

Tony just swallowed his words here. Yeah. Participating in his recovery. He really preferred to do it all himself and only show himself when he was presentable and a lot less vulnerable. But this time around, when things were a lot more certain than before, he thought he was feeling more secure at home, on base, surrounded by his men. But that might also have been something to do with having been taken prisoner for weeks without a SEAL in sight. It made him safer to be on home ground, surrounded by people who he trusted with his life.

“Do you want to talk about being held prisoner?”

“Not really,” Tony grimaced. “It was pretty much the usual – restraints, beatings, burnings, a couple waterboarding sessions, some lack of food and water. The usual stuff. Not my first time, as you might recall.”

“I know, but it was by far the longest time you’ve been MIA, and you weren’t working as part of a team this time.”

“Yeah that part sucked,” Tony snorted. “Remind me never to do anything that Army thinks is a good idea?”

“You believed that their security measures were inadequate?”

“Absolutely,” Tony looked his doctor in the eye. “I lodged a report and they didn’t take me seriously. Might be the gimpy leg, might be I’m Navy and they’re Army. I don’t know. But they didn’t take my advice and they lost a man, and got two more captured. Thank god the SEALs came to rescue us.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “You know, I spoke to Private Lobell?”

“Who?” Tony frowned.

“Lobell. Kevin. He was the private who was taken with you that day? Your men rescued him, too.”

“Oh, Greenie!” Tony smiled at the thought of the kid that did make it through with him. “Lobell. Never really paid attention to his name. Yeah. I hope he’s doing ok.” He’d continued to call the kid Greenie throughout their incarceration, and the private started out calling him Commander or Sir, but by the end of their captivity, he was starting to call him Geezer instead of Sir which always made Tony laugh.

“He says you saved his life.”

Tony waved it away. “He’s just a kid. So fucking green. I can’t even remember ever being that new.”

“He said you told him what to do, how to act, what to say, and most importantly, he said you gave him hope because you convinced him that there were people coming for you both.”

“Because there _were_ people coming for us,” Tony frowned, not understanding the point of this discussion. “I knew McCloud would come get us.”

“You have the kind of faith and belief in your men that very few people do, Commander.”

“Well, other people don’t have men like mine,” Tony rolled his eyes. It was so simple. He would have moved heaven and earth to get one of his team back if they’d been taken. There was no way McCloud, Baez, Jonas, Baylor or any of his men wouldn’t have done the same for him.

“He thinks you’re a hero.”

“He has no idea what anything is, Doc. Fuck, the kid’s so green, he’s still collecting Pokémon cards. He just needed some guidance to get through it. Wait for the team to retrieve us.”

“My point is, that you helped him get through it because you gave him hope.”

“There’s _always_ hope,” Tony snapped. “What the hell else is there if there’s no hope?”

Doctor C smiled. “I hope you remember those words when I leave and you forget about the things we talked about. Like the conclusions you’ve already made about your father.”

“You are one tricky lady,” Tony said admiringly. “Sure I can’t take you out to dinner? A movie? Long walks on the beach?”

She flashed her wedding ring. “Married,” she told him. “And I don’t think you’re in any shape for a long walk on the beach.”

“Ouch!” Tony pouted, pretending to be hurt.

“Plus I don’t date my patients.”

Tony sighed and flopped back in his chair. “Not even the sad, pathetic, one legged ones who need pity fucks to get by?”

Doctor C laughed so hard at that that Tony couldn’t help but laugh, too. It was tradition. He always hit on his therapist about this time during their sessions.

“It will be a cold day in hell before you need a pity fuck, Commander DiNozzo,” she chuckled.

“The whole amputated and disabled thing’s got to be good for _something_ ,” he sighed dramatically.

She laughed and they finished out the session without getting too deep again. And as she walked out his door, McCloud walked in. Tony rolled his eyes and settled himself into the recliner. Apparently it was time for the next shift for the babysitting brigade. He and McCloud played poker until he was so sleepy that he couldn’t even see straight and allowed himself to be herded to bed without much argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep in mind that I am not a mental health professional of any sort, and Tony's session in this chapter is completely made up and fictional. Please excuse any errors in my portrayal of the session.
> 
> Also I based what Tony did to help lessen the pain he was feeling in his lost leg on several different articles I read online regarding these 'phantom pains'. Sometimes drugs don't do a thing, so this kind of visualization of the lost limb being present and visualizing the pain being eased is what they might do (according to my research). I am not a medical professional either, so please, don't take my word for it.
> 
> Tomorrow we get Kate's POV!
> 
> <3  
> -j  
> xoxo


	8. Part Five: Kate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains more spoilers for s09xe10 Sins of the Father. For a transcript of the episode, please [click here](https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=ncis&episode=s09e10).

**Part Five: Kate**

Caitlin Todd was struggling and feeling incredibly off balanced. She had been ever since the whole Baez case, really. She knew that she had made a terrible mistake, overlooking the fact that Margot Baez had had a restraining order out against her sister, and had released her ten year old son into Claire’s custody. Even though there were plenty of SEALs with families who had offered to take the child while NCIS cleared up the ‘misunderstanding’ with Chief Baez, she had chosen the vic’s sister, because of her own predisposition towards trusting family members, especially female family members. Or maybe because she didn’t believe that an organization that had no women in it, like the SEALs, would take too kindly to women and wouldn’t be the best people to send a kid to after his mothers had died. She’d assumed that Baez was guilty of killing his ex-wife and his wife’s new wife, because, well, wouldn’t anyone be upset that their ex had taken up with someone of a different gender? Wasn’t it a rejection of Baez as a man? So she had chosen what seemed to be the safe option without looking at all the facts. Even though Claire Darcy had openly looked down on the fact that Margot had a wife in her presence. Even though Claire had insulted her sister’s new marriage in front of her as well as the child, she had turned a blind eye. And then of course, it turned out that Claire and her anti-LGBT group had murdered Margot and her wife Jen.

She didn’t even know why it was that she had closed her eyes to all the warning signs regarding Claire, and that she hadn’t just completed the basic background work that would have turned up the restraining order. Was it because she was so truly blind that she couldn’t see what was right in front of her? Or had she already concluded that Baez was guilty and therefore they didn’t need to look any further? Was she only just looking for Baez’s accomplices, if any, and therefore suspicious of the SEAL team as a whole as they surged up to protect one of their own?

She truly didn’t know anymore what her rationale had been for that case. And instead of just letting it slide like he had done in the past, this time Gibbs had gone up in arms about it. Of course. Because she had endangered a child. She had broken his precious rules, which, hypocrite that he was, he broke all the time. But whatever, it didn’t change the fact that she had made a mistake that could have really harmed a ten year old which resulted in Gibbs putting a reprimand on her record and she had been sent back to FLETC for extensive retraining.

And now, Gibbs had demoted her until such time as she could earn her position back and Cassie Yates was Gibbs’ temporary SFA awaiting her promotion to team lead. Cassie Yates was a wonderful person, Kate had talked with her a little during the Y Pestis case, but it really irked her that Gibbs had felt that she wasn’t capable of the job that she had been doing for years now. She didn’t understand why they couldn’t just put this whole case behind them and go back to normal. She missed things being normal. She missed being Gibbs’ trusted SFA, and the fact that Cassie was encouraging McGee to go out into the field, as if he was a real field agent instead of a computer guy, it didn’t seem right. And that all of a sudden, Gibbs wanted McGee out in the field instead of behind the computer was something she didn’t understand. They all had their roles to play and had done for years. Why was everything changing now?

What the hell was going on with the MCRT? Why was she the only one who was feeling victimized, and ignored? Why was her opinion no longer something that mattered? Yes, she had made mistakes on the Baez case, but she had been trying her best to atone for them. She really had. They had gotten the right people in the end. No harm had come to Baez or his son. And that the SEAL Team Commander had poked his nose into her team’s business, into her workplace, she truly resented that.

She wasn’t proud of how she had immediately assumed that Commander DiNozzo was some pretty boy who was used to getting his own way. Most military officers tended to be entitled and self righteous, seeing the world through the lens of military might instead of reality. And at first glance, DiNozzo fit the bill. Young, handsome, already the Commander of the entire SEAL Team Four, and that was a big deal. She’d reacted badly towards him, without knowing anything about him, making up her mind just by looking at him. She was a profiler, so she had trusted her instincts. Unfortunately, they’d failed her there. He was a fully decorated SEAL, a man who had served his country faithfully to the extent of losing his leg, and who was still faithfully serving his country. Kate didn’t have anything against servicemen or servicewomen. She respected them. But she had just immediately assumed that Commander DiNozzo had somehow _not_ deserved the rank that he held, or the respect and love that his men seemed to lavish upon him. Because he was young and handsome and athletic, and young, handsome, athletic men tended to get what they wanted by looking good. She’d seen it a million times, from high school athletes to college frat boys, and onwards. She’d immediately lumped Commander DiNozzo in with those people, conveniently overlooking the fact that he was the entire SEAL Team’s Commander. That he had actually seen action, and lots of it.

Learning about his status as an amputee had also been a shock, because he had carried himself without a hint of any kind of difficulty or disability. He’d seemed _normal_. He’d ridden in on an expensive Ducati, for god’s sake, and she had ignored the fact that he was still supposed to be on convalescent leave. It had boggled her mind when they learned about his history. She had seen pictures of the injuries Commander DiNozzo had sustained, and had only received because he _went back in_ to the danger zone because some of his men were hadn’t yet made it to safety. He was a bona fide hero, and not even Kate could argue with that now. But he had, for whatever reason, completely rubbed her the wrong way just from her first glimpse of him.

This new case, involving Anthony DiNozzo Senior, the Commander’s father? Well it was again getting her back up. She felt certain that Commander DiNozzo _had_ to know something about the murder of Lieutenant Massey and certainly what his father had been up to before he died. She had even bet McGee money that Commander DiNozzo was involved in some way. McGee had the gall to grow a backbone and actually stand up to her when she tried to insist that he was involved. McGee refused to agree with her assumptions. And, of course, a lot of her FLETC classes had been about approaching investigations without prejudice and with an open mind instead of with a preconceived notion as to what the crime was, and who was behind it. It had been demeaning to have to go back to such basics, and here was McGee telling her something that she already knew. She’d been an investigator on Gibbs’ team longer than McGee. So it had absolutely annoyed her that even the little probationary agent was starting to get uppity. Because in her gut, she’d known that Commander DiNozzo _had_ to have been involved. Regardless of what anyone else said.

Then, when Cassie and Gibbs came back from the official notification, and they’d struck him off as any kind of person of interest since he’d just returned from an op – seriously? Wasn’t he supposed to no longer be on field operations? – and supposedly had a very good alibi for the past few weeks, it had bothered Kate. She didn’t even know why but she wanted to sift through the Commander’s alibi and try and break it. Weren’t SEALs the ones sent to assassinate people if need be? All over the world, wasn’t that what they sometimes did? So maybe that was what DiNozzo had done to Massey? How it all fit in, she didn’t know, but she could see it happening. And when Gibbs had said that Commander DiNozzo was going to come to the Navy Yard to view his father’s body, it had really upset Kate.

Really? He was there to view his father’s body? To do what, provide identification for him? They had already positively IDed DiNozzo Senior. They didn’t need his son to confirm that. So Kate had immediately been suspicious of his motives. Did he want to come to gloat? Look at the outcome of what he had secretly been involved with? What was his motive?

But then, when he’d shown up the other day, he’d been on crutches and his missing leg had never seemed more obvious. His jeans hung low on his hips, one pants leg shortened and sewn up, covering what was left of his leg, and he wasn’t using his prosthetic leg. He was gaunt, his fingers were bandaged, and he looked like someone had given him a good working over. Massey had had no defensive wounds, and neither had DiNozzo Senior. Commander DiNozzo looked as if he had been tortured. And then after he’d seen his father, she could tell how upset he was and how puzzled and surprised and overwhelmed. No one could fake that kind of emotion. Could they?

Gibbs had tried to keep her away from the Commander, and she had done that. She didn’t interact with either him or Chief Baez, who had accompanied him and become a wall, keeping everyone away from him when he was vulnerable, but she had kept her eye on them from afar. She’d needed to see for herself what was going on with the Commander, especially when he came in looking like a strong wind could blow him over, and Baez was acting more like his security detail than anything else.

Even though she still wanted to pin the murder of Massey on the Commander, she’d been forced to reassess her ideas on the crime that day. Commander DiNozzo’s wounds were not just a day old. Some of them probably weren’t even a week old. They were much older than that. And that Baez was upset Commander DiNozzo was up and about was not something the Chief kept secret. But they had been there and DiNozzo had gotten to look at his father. She’d listened in on their conversation in the conference room, how DiNozzo had been genuinely surprised that he was listed as his father’s next of kin and that he’d not been in contact with his father for two decades. It had really surprised her. It seemed to her that men like DiNozzo would tend to trade on their looks and their father’s money or reputation in order to move up in the world, but not the Commander. It was causing her to rethink a lot of her assumptions and conclusions and how she had reached those conclusions. She’d tried to cling on to the possibility that Commander DiNozzo was involved in the murder of Massey and the death of his own father, but then Cassie had come in with that detailed account of what the Commander had just gone through, and she couldn’t dispute it or the fact that he couldn’t possibly have been the one to commit the crime.

So yes, she absolutely felt wrong-footed. Gibbs still didn’t trust her and refused to let her interact with any of the SEAL team members. She wasn’t the one bossing McGee around, and Yates was allowing McGee to go out in the field with her, as was Gibbs. It was just weird. She didn’t really know what to think anymore.

And last night her sister had been in town and their investigation was wrapping up so she could go and have a late dinner with her sister. And while she loved her sister, being around her always made Kate feel as if she wasn’t doing anything right. That she wasn’t enough. That she would never measure up to her big sister. Because even though, like her sister, she had had a good education, her sister’s job was more important to their mother than hers was. What her sister did made a difference in people’s lives, and Kate had had to quit the Secret Service and join NCIS after sleeping with someone on the President’s detail. Not that Kate had told her mother _that_ little tidbit, but after she had taken the job Gibbs offered, her mom had been disappointed and looked at it as a step down from being on the President’s protective detail. Which, maybe it had been. Although she had come to love her new job and working on Gibbs’ team, and being part of the NCIS family. She still did make a difference on people’s lives, helping bring justice to victims and their families. And sometimes their cases ended up being important and big and classified, too. But her mother didn’t see any of that. All she saw was that Kate had quit her job at the Secret Service to join a small federal agency that no one had heard of. If Kate had disclosed that she had had to leave the Secret Service before she could be let go, she didn’t even know the level of guilt and disappointment that her mother would bring to bear.

In addition, her sister was happily married, with a husband she adored, and she had two beautiful and talented children, and Kate had none of those things, which immediately made her less in her mother’s eyes. So even though she loved her sister and loved being with her, being around her always brought these feelings of inadequacy to the forefront. She almost regretted the fact that the case was wrapping up and she would have no excuse to duck out of the late dinner her sister proposed having, just the two of them. Even though it would be really great to hang out with her sister, because she was truly a cool woman and someone Kate looked up to.

It would have also been some kind of comfort to her if she had been to one to crack the case. But no. The lead that had helped them solve the case had been dug up by Cassie Yates. Cassie had gone to the Adams House to try to track down what DiNozzo Senior had done the night Lieutenant Massey died, and she’d seen that none of the liquor bottles in his suite had been emptied. She’d double checked with the hotel billing office to see if they had any of it charged to the room and then refreshed the minibar in the room even though they’d been under strict orders to leave the room as is, but no, nothing of the sort. So she went down to the hotel bar to see if he’d drank there, unlikely as that would have been since no bar charges were on record for him there either. But even though he didn’t drink there that night, the Adams House hotel bartender not only recognized DiNozzo Senior – he was apparently a regular at the hotel and the bar – but could also tell her the names of two other bars that DiNozzo was known to frequent when he was in DC. So she had gone to both bars, finding nothing at the first one but hitting the jackpot at the second one. DiNozzo had been there drinking heavily that night, and he had been pretty blind drunk at the time, but he had left with a beautiful woman, and Cassie had the security footage to prove it. McGee and Gibbs had recognized the woman in the footage to be Massey’s secretary, and through her, the MCRT had sussed out the entire recording of the last meeting that DiNozzo had had with Massey. After DiNozzo was cheated out of his finder’s fee and left issuing a death threat, it turned out that Massey had then turned on his own lawyer, Morgan Hunt, firing him because _his_ contract had also expired. Massey’s ruthlessness in business even went against his long time friend, business partner and lawyer, causing Hunt to strike back.

As it turned out, the secretary had roofied DiNozzo Senior at Hunt’s request, and then Hunt bludgeoned Massey to death, stuck him in the trunk of DiNozzo’s car, and strategically placed the older man where he would be found by the police. Unfortunately for him, DiNozzo’s heart had given out from the strain of the excess alcohol mixed with the drugs and he had died before he could truly be framed for murder. All of this because Hunt would have been removed as executor of Massey’s will and would be cheated out of the hefty executor fees that would have been paid out to him. He’d gone ahead and murdered Massey before any changes could be made and he would still be Massey’s attorney of record.

And like salt rubbed into a wound in Kate’s side, none of it had had anything to do with Commander DiNozzo. As he had said, he had not seen or heard from or had any kind of interaction with his father in over twenty years, ever since he was sixteen. That his father had been to DC enough to be quite the regular at the Adams House hotel, and to have bartenders recognize him in DC, even though his own son was stationed not far from the city, was not something the Commander had known. Again, Kate had been incredibly wrong in her first assumption of the case. She had been wrong this time, she had been wrong the last time. It was shaking her faith in her own judgements.

And then this dinner with her sister had been troubling. Rachel had told her that she’d heard about Kate’s issues at work, and that she had been sent back to FLETC for a time, with further FLETC classes that were upcoming. Rachel had connections within a number of federal agencies and the military. So she had heard about it and she was quite concerned about Kate’s well being. And in that big sister, ‘I love you and I want what’s best for you’ way of hers, Rachel was giving her advice. Because a few of the FLETC instructors even knew Rachel and while they hadn’t discussed any of the specifics of what was going on with her – at least her sister was giving her that bit of privacy – Rachel was there at dinner, asking her to unlearn some of her ways, just like she’d done when they were younger. Rachel always knew best, and Kate should always learn from her. That was the message of the evening. It had always been what their parents said, all her life, it was what everyone always said. And it never failed to make Kate cringe and want to do the exact opposite of what was being advised.

The trouble there was that even Kate knew that they were right. Even if she couldn’t help but begrudgingly agree that Rachel was right, at least ninety five percent of the time. Rachel did always seem to know what was best, it always seemed to turn out right for Rachel, and it usually didn’t turn out this way for Kate. But she couldn’t just give in and let her sister win every single time. Right?

So Kate knew that in general, she should listen to her sister much more than she did. But yeah, she might have a point with this one. This thing about Rachel knowing about her being sent back to FLETC had thrown her. She’d been hoping to just do her time, take the punishment, and let it all blow over. But if Rachel knew about it, it would be that much harder to hide from it. She wasn’t even worried that Rachel would tell her parents, because that wasn’t how they operated. But the disappointment in Rachel’s eyes at what she had heard about Kate was enough to make her want to go out and beat someone up. Which was, of course, a terrible idea. But she didn’t know what else to do, how else to deal with her emotions. And when Rachel had (of course) suggested therapy, it had infuriated her. Therapy was _always_ Rachel’s answer. Therapy was her go to. She truly believed that it worked and it would even work for Kate.

Kate had walked out of that dinner even more angry and confused, because she knew her sister was right, but she just couldn’t accept it from her sister. She just couldn’t. Everyone already thought she was wrong, and now Rachel wasn’t in her corner? It made her feel as if she couldn’t take a breath because she had disappointed Rachel.

Suffice it to say that she was not in a good mood when she walked into the bullpen the next morning. She had tossed and turned all night, replaying her conversation with her sister where she was trying to downplay the troubles she was experiencing. She didn’t want Rachel to know the extent of her issues, but it also worried her that if Rachel only knew a fraction of what was actually going on with her job situation and was already worried enough to speak to her about it, just how bad off would she have been if Kate had opened up to her? How concerned would Rachel be about her? And what did that mean? Kate had spent a night just trying to figure out what was wrong with the situation, because if it really was somehow her own fault that things were unraveling, then it was solely up to her to fix it.

She hadn’t come to any conclusions during all of the tossing and turning, but she did think about it. She’d done quite a bit of soul searching, and she would probably continue to do so until she had figured things out in her head. Once she had figured things out in her head, then she could go about the business of trying to fix this thing that had gone so askew in her life.

She wished that she had had the courage to ask Rachel about her own personal views of faith and how that would fit into this more permissive world with regards to gay marriage, and also what Rachel thought would be the definition of a strong woman. Things that she had felt were good about herself, she was being told were things she needed to curb. Her first instincts had of course, been to discount it all. But if even McGee and Gibbs felt this way, then maybe she did need to think about how it was she was presenting herself to the world, and how it was she was working to solve cases. Look at this case, for instance. She’d completely missed the mark with this one. She had been so sure Commander DiNozzo would have had something to do with it she wanted to put money down on it, and as it turned out the Commander had had absolutely nothing to do with his father’s death or the murder of Lieutenant Massey. He was too busy being a Navy SEAL and serving his country than to go around perpetrating the murder of his own father or some random Navy pilot who was doing business with his father.

Maybe she did need to change something? But she would have to think really hard about what it was that was wrong that needed to be fixed. She knew herself. No matter what anyone told her, if she didn’t figure it out for herself, then she wouldn’t be able to truly make a change. She knew how she was about change, she would only pay lip service to something if she didn’t agree with it. Hell, Gibbs was the champion of lip service at work. Everyone knew that Vance had little to no power over how Gibbs ran his team and which cases the MCRT chose to take. So if she couldn’t figure out what it was everyone seemed to be seeing and understanding what the issue was, then she couldn’t fix it, no matter what anyone said to her.

Maybe she did need some distance, from the SEALs that seemed to have triggered all of this, the little snowball that ended up being an avalanche. Maybe she needed to get some perspective. She’d spent most of her time at FLETC in the past few weeks, mostly angry about the injustice of it all instead of truly understanding what the purpose of the retraining might be. It had seemed more like pointless punishment than anything else. But given what Rachel had been saying, maybe it was time she did some personal reflection. She was being sent back to FLETC again to re-do profiling classes and a bunch of other remedial classes in a couple of weeks which she had originally taken to be an insult to her education, knowledge, experience and abilities. But maybe she could take that time to reflect upon this case, other cases, her behavior, others’ responses and maybe then, she could figure out what it was she needed to do. Maybe then she could sit and speak with Rachel. Then it would be a more productive conversation. She needed time to sort it out in her head before she could talk to anyone about it. That would have to be the plan. Even though she knew that she would keep worrying about it for days because this was how she was.

It was killing her to think that Gibbs was disappointed in her. Kate was used to disappointing authority figures – her mother being the very first one she could think of for so many reasons that she couldn’t even articulate it. She’d disappointed professors in college for never taking the expected paths, and old bosses for refusing to quit or give up, and keep climbing the ranks. The only boss she’d ever worked with that she didn’t feel like she had disappointed, and who actually seemed to like her as a person was Gibbs. And the thought of disappointing him now was almost too much to take.

She’d chosen a very male-dominated career path – first the Secret Service, then NCIS – because she wanted to make a statement. That she could play with the big boys even though she was a girl. Maybe even be better than they were at their own games. Rub it in their faces, as well as her mother’s, that she might be a girl but she wasn’t going to stand to be pigeon holed and told what it was that was appropriate for her to do, given her gender. She’d been roughhousing with her brothers ever since she was old enough to crawl to them to join them in their games. It shouldn’t have surprised her mother that this would be how she turned out.

But maybe she had played the gender card a little too strongly. Maybe she had used it as an excuse for so many things that she had forgotten exactly why she got into this line of work. She didn’t want to be treated differently because of her gender. She wanted to stand up to the guys, be just as tough as they were. And seeing how Cassie Yates dealt with Gibbs, the SEALs, McGee, and everyone else in their male-dominated profession, it was definitely different. Cassie wasn’t brash and loud like she was. Cassie didn’t elbow her way into things and force people to acquiesce. Cassie just spoke softly and firmly and she had this attitude where she expected McGee, Kate, and even to a certain extent, Gibbs to just obey her and agree with her, even without having to raise her voice. Cassie came to work dressed in expensive and beautiful outfits that highlighted her figure without going against the NCIS dress code or looking at all inappropriate or slutty. She always looked classy and competent, yet unmistakably feminine. She accentuated her femininity, and she was quite obviously a beautiful woman who had a strength about her that belied her delicate frame. And to just add even more layers and complications to the woman, she was married to a woman and had moved back to DC to commit fully to her, after maintaining a long distance relationship for a few years.

Kate felt like Cassie’s whole package challenged the idea of the stereotype of a gay woman. All through college, and the years of working, it had seemed to her that a woman who was a lesbian tended to have certain characteristics – wear their hair a certain way, walk a certain way, dress a certain way, be a certain way. Cassie bucked all of those stereotypes. She was a lovely woman who played up her womanhood and yet she was quite openly gay. Her wife, who was a teacher, had come and picked her up from work a time or two and so Kate had met her. Neither of them seemed like they should be anything… ‘different’. But even Kate could see that Cassie and her wife were committed to each other and loved each other. The light in their eyes when they were with each other reminded her of her parents when they were together. It was love. Pure and simple.

Kate needed to wrap her head around that. She needed to reexamine what it was she had been taught as a child. And she had to remember what that priest in that case that one time had talked to her about acceptance and how that didn’t have to contradict her faith. Maybe that was what she needed to work on, as well. Acceptance.

All of these things were swirling through her brain when she walked into the bullpen that morning. Gibbs was grabbing his jacket, credentials and weapon and she caught the questioning look he gave Cassie. She also caught Cassie’s slight head shake and jerk towards her, and Gibbs rolled his eyes a blew a breath out in frustration, but he nodded.

“Kate, grab your gear. We’re going to Little Creek,” Gibbs growled, his grumpiness evident.

Kate made an about turn and scuttled after Gibbs. Holy shit! She was apparently not going to be benched again today! She didn’t quite understand why Cassie was encouraging Gibbs to take her instead of McGee or Cassie, but she wasn’t going to question it. She hated sitting around and being all introspective. She wanted to work. She wanted to take action. And at least she would be spared the pain of agonizing about her life, her decisions, her attitude, her career, her entire existence which she would have subjected herself to if she had to just sit at her desk and input cold cases into the database. She wanted to ask Gibbs questions, but he remained in stony silence, lips pressed together in disapproval, and she didn’t dare start talking. Not when Gibbs had softened enough to take her out in the field, back to Little Creek even, with him.

When they were in the car halfway to Little Creek, Gibbs finally broke the silence. He’d probably gotten tired of Kate’s worried glances.

“We’re going to explain what we know of how Commander DiNozzo’s father died, and the murder of Lieutenant Massey to him,” he growled.

“OK,” Kate nodded.

“I expect you to treat this like a proper death notification.”

“Of course,” Kate frowned at him.

“I would have preferred to bring Yates but she thought you needed this experience. We need to see you behave in a professional manner.”

Kate flushed, but all she could do was nod.

“I will not stand for you trying to make any kind of snide remark about Commander DiNozzo, Chief Baez, any of his men, DiNozzo Senior, Hunt, or Massey.”

Kate nodded.

“Otherwise I will have a problem with your behavior in a professional setting. And you don’t want to see me have a problem with you, do you?”

Kate shook her head. “No, sir.”

“And _don’t_ fucking call me sir.”

“Yes, Gibbs,” she took a deep breath. That was a rule she knew very well, but it also probably spoke to how completely off she was feeling that she’d actually called Gibbs ‘sir’ to his face.

“We could have just called Commander DiNozzo to tell him about this, but he is the Commander of SEAL Team Four. He deserves this courtesy, he deserves to hear it personally from NCIS, what was going on with the only family member he had left.”

“Yes, Gibbs.” Kate didn’t think she had ever heard Gibbs say so many words in one go. Ever. Gibbs meant business.

“Don’t make me regret doing what Cassie thought I should do,” he went on, and the threat there was unmistakable.

“I won’t,” she told her boss, squaring her shoulder and lifting her chin. She was going to be professional even if it killed her. Because Gibbs and Cassie were right. Commander DiNozzo deserved the courtesy of hearing this kind of news in person. Commander DiNozzo wasn’t the enemy, and she needed to stop thinking of him as the dumb frat boy bartering on looks, money, or athletic ability to get where he was. Because unfortunately for her, that was far from what he was.

“McGee reached out to Baez, and the Commander is back on bedrest in his quarters. Whatever you see there, there will be _no gossip_ afterwards,” Gibbs’ eyes flashed angrily at her. “If I hear one word about how he looks or his condition or anything of the sort, anything that _isn’t_ case related, you _will_ regret it.”

“Yes, Gibbs.” Kate wanted to rail against the unfairness of it all, that maybe Gibbs was stereotyping her as someone who gossiped, but she knew that, especially with her team, she was usually free and open about her opinions on all kinds of things, relevant and not relevant to the case. And apparently, Gibbs was now cracking down on it. Gibbs seemed to have a strong protective streak for the Commander and his SEALs. But maybe that was just in response to the prejudice and bias that Kate had subjected them to. She sighed and nodded, accepting the conditions. She could do her job, she was a professional after all. It was time she reminded Gibbs of that. And she would have to thank Cassie for giving her a chance to prove herself to Gibbs again.

When they got to Little Creek, Gibbs drove them to one of the little houses, on base residences. Which made sense, since Commander DiNozzo was supposed to still be in his quarters and on bedrest. Kate got out of the car, straightened her shoulders and gave Gibbs a grim nod. She was going in and this was going to be the most professional Gibbs had ever seen her.

But then another car drove up and a familiar figure got out of it.

“Kate?”

Kate stared wide eyed at her sister. “Rachel?”

“What are _you_ doing here?” They both said at once, staring at each other in surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully that was an OK look into Kate's thoughts. :D Keep in mind that almost all of the details of the case is plucked directly from s09e10 Sins of the Father. The major thing that I changed was that Senior died as a result of what Hunt and his lover did to set him up for the murder of Massey. I did play around with the episode and little bits of what appear in the episode were repurposed elsewhere in the story, but the case itself I left fairly intact. I didn't tag this story with "Casefic" because the case itself I didn't make up. I just... tweaked what was there. ;)
> 
> Tomorrow we get one more Gibbs' POV, and the day after is the Epilogue which will be back to Tony.
> 
> Also, can I just say how awesome you all are! I am loving your comments and questions, you guys are always on point and I loved your guesses for Doctor C. I'm trying not to give you too many spoilers so thanks for bearing with me ;) See y'alls tomorrow! <3


	9. Part Six: Gibbs

**Part Six: Gibbs**

Gibbs stood and watched as Kate and the newly arrived woman stare at each other. The woman had reddish brown hair and a sweet face and she looked vaguely familiar but he did not know her. Kate, however, did. And she stood there, staring at the newcomer in surprise.

“What are _you_ doing here?” they both asked each other.

“I thought you said you were leaving this morning?” Kate continued.

“Something came up.”

Gibbs rolled his eyes. He whipped his badge out and flashed it at the woman. “Agent Gibbs, NCIS. You seem to know Agent Todd?”

The woman broke into a smile. “Of course. Agent Gibbs, I’m Rachel. Kate’s sister.”

She held out her hand and Gibbs grasped it. Rachel’s grip was firm and the hand shake emanated confidence and calm.

“The question remains,” Gibbs told her. “What _are_ you doing here?”

The woman’s brown eyes flicked towards Commander DiNozzo’s house and she bit her lip. But before she could answer, the front door opened.

“Doctor C!” McCloud called out, beckoning to her. Apparently Kate’s sister was expected at Commander DiNozzo’s.

“Hey, Mac,” Rachel smiled at the SEAL.

“Agent Gibbs? Agent Todd?” McCloud frowned at the NCIS agents and stepped out, closing the door behind him, standing with his arms crossed in a menacing way. It took talent to just stand there and look threatening, but McCloud had easily accomplished it, changing from friendly to menacing in the blink of an eye. “Why are you here?”

Gibbs sighed, although he didn’t blame McCloud for the not exactly friendly attitude. “We’re here for a quick conversation with Commander DiNozzo, then we’ll be out of your hair.”

Rachel gave him a long look. “This is about the case involving Commander DiNozzo’s father?”

“And how would you know about this?” Gibbs frowned at her, giving Kate a sharp look. Had Kate been speaking to her family about open cases? Because that would not be a good thing.

Rachel bit her lip, and it was obvious that she didn’t want to tell Gibbs anything. Finally she sighed. “Mac, can we all just come in and see what the Commander wants to do?” she turned to DiNozzo’s man. “I can always wait in the car until after the agents are done if he prefers. But I’d like to see what he wants me to do.”

McCloud gave Kate a really long look. “ _Everybody_ better be polite or this is not going to go well,” he snarled.

Rachel gave Kate a surprised look. Apparently McCloud didn’t make it a habit of going around saying threatening things to people. At least not in front of Kate’s sister, Gibbs thought.

Gibbs gave McCloud a slow nod, and Kate voiced a soft agreement. She, too, had her arms crossed in front of her, but for her it was a defensive posture.

“Fine,” McCloud gritted out. He opened the door and gestured for them to enter, closing the door behind them.

Gibbs watched as Kate looked around the house, and he saw that she startled a little at the baby grand in pride of place. The recliner was unoccupied, but a moment later, they watched as Commander DiNozzo – Tony – limped in with one crutch and using what looked to be an IV pole as his second crutch. He had his head turned back to Baez who was a step behind him.

“Jesus, Lobo. I can walk. How many times I gotta tell you that I’m not a fucking invalid,” he whined but Baez had spotted them and his expression instantly changed from one of fond concern to brooding anger.

DiNozzo turned to see what had upset his friend. He still had a smile on his face – god, the man had a brilliant smile, and the most amazing dimples – which froze when he saw Gibbs and Kate.

“Agents?” he halted, and Baez immediately stepped around him and stood in front of him protectively.

“Commander DiNozzo,” Rachel, Kate’s sister piped up. “I’m here, too, as you requested.”

“ _I_ didn’t request you,” DiNozzo glared at Baez and McCloud. “These clowns did.”

“Why is NCIS here? Because we sure as hell didn’t request them,” Baez was now glaring at McCloud and Gibbs could tell it was for allowing them into the house without warning him first. McCloud sighed and shrugged.

DiNozzo sighed explosively. “Everybody just calm the fuck down and grab a seat,” he barked and Gibbs watched as he allowed Baez to help him settle into the recliner and fuss with his blankets before the big man took a seat on the couch. McCloud remained on his feet, as did Gibbs, Kate and Kate’s sister.

“Would you like me to leave and come back when NCIS is done?” Rachel offered.

DiNozzo rolled his eyes. “You’re just going to make me talk about this later anyway,” he grumbled. “Just sit down and let’s get this over with.”

“I should disclose that Agent Todd is my sister, before we proceed,” Rachel stated. “Not that any of this was planned or coordinated. It’s just a very strange coincidence”

DiNozzo stared at her, eyes wide, and he turned to look at Kate, his eyes narrowed now. “Huh,” he muttered. “Just fucking great.”

Gibbs was proud of the fact that Kate stayed silent, even though she turned bright red.

“Sit,” Tony told them all, and this time it was definitely the Commander ordering them to do it, steel injected into his voice. He gave Kate one more long look, and a sharp glance at Gibbs, which Gibbs rightly took to be a warning. And Gibbs made sure he gave Kate another glare before he took a seat, as ordered.

Tony waited until everyone sat down, and although he gave McCloud a sharp look for remaining standing behind Gibbs and Kate, he said nothing further. Gibbs understood that McCloud was looming on purpose. An intimidation factor that he could see was working on both Kate and her sister. But why was Kate’s sister here, and someone known to these members of SEAL Team Four? Gibbs vaguely remembered Kate complaining about her perfect sister and he remembered that she was a psychologist, and then it made sense. Of course. Kate’s sister was here to speak to DiNozzo. No doubt, after his experiences being held captive, that they would assign a shrink to him.

“Agent Gibbs, you go first,” DiNozzo flashed him a sweet smile as he pointed at him, and Gibbs tried not to let it affect him, even though his heart rate sped up.

“We wanted to speak to you in person to let you know that we have closed the case regarding the murder of Lieutenant Massey and the subsequent death of your father, Anthony DiNozzo Senior,” Gibbs began.

Tony’s expression grew serious and he nodded, signaling him to continue. So Gibbs began telling him about what they had found out. He kept his voice soft and gentle, although he described things as clinically as he possibly could. DiNozzo Senior had been in business with Dean Massey and Massey had decided to cut him out of what he was owed due to a technicality. Morgan Hunt, who had also been screwed over by his friend and business partner murdered Massey and had been trying to frame DiNozzo Senior for Massey’s murder. Unfortunately the combination of excessive alcohol and the roofies in his system had triggered a massive heart attack which caused Senior’s death. Morgan Hunt had been charged with the murder of both Lieutenant Dean Massey and Anthony DiNozzo Senior. Hunt’s girlfriend was an accessory but had cooperated and would probably get some leniency.

Gibbs watched with concern as Tony’s already sallow skin paled even more. Baez handed him a glass of water and they watched as he sipped the drink, his fingers trembling slightly.

“So this was just for the money?” he finally asked.

“Unfortunately, it looks that way, Commander,” Kate said, and Gibbs was pleased that she sounded sympathetic and respectful.

“Huh,” DiNozzo bit his lip and the dimples deepened in his cheeks.

Fuck. He was ridiculously attractive, Gibbs thought. Even laid up in his recliner and looking like he probably hadn’t showered in a couple of days. His hair was still longer than regulation and fairly messy – weeks of captivity would do that to a SEAL, and he had several days worth of stubble on his chin, and he was dressed in a ratty US Navy t-shirt and pajama bottoms, but he was still, hands down, the sexiest thing Gibbs had laid eyes on in a long time.

“Did you find out anything else? About Senior, I mean?” Tony asked.

“We sent a team to search his offices in Manhattan,” Gibbs said. “But they saw no evidence of any kind of criminal activity in connection to Lieutenant Massey or Morgan Hunt there.” Whether there was criminal activity that was not connected to the murder they had been investigating, Gibbs was careful not to mention. There was no need for Commander DiNozzo to know some of these details.

“OK,” Tony nodded slowly.

“Do you have any other questions, Commander?” Kate’s tone was respectful.

Tony shook his head, handing the glass back to Baez. “There’s just stuff… I’m just confused…”

“About the case?” Gibbs asked. It had turned out to be fairly cut and dried and he wasn’t sure what the Commander would be confused about.

“No. No. Baez spoke to a private investigator this morning. This guy called my office, and Baylor sent him to Lobo, since no one’s letting me have a phone,” he gave a half-hearted glare at Baez, who gave him the most innocent look a 6’7” SEAL could give anyone. “ _Anyway_ , my father had hired him a few weeks ago, to look for me,” DiNozzo’s eyes looked slightly glazed at the statement. “I was hoping that maybe, you guys had found some reason why he would come looking for me after twenty years? It’s not like I’ve gone anywhere. I told him I was enlisting way back when. Left him a message and he never called me back or acknowledged it in any way. He couldn’t care less back then. I don’t see why he’d suddenly start caring now, even paying someone to look for me.”

“We didn’t find anything connected to you in our investigation, but if you like, we can keep looking?” Gibbs offered. Even Vance wouldn’t object to doing this kind of a favor for the Commander of SEAL Team Four.

“No, no. Of course not. It doesn’t matter, really, does it? He’s dead now. It’s just…” he blew out a sigh and made a helpless gesture with his hands.

Baez’s hand on his shoulder made him nod. But then something chirped and Baez pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Yeah,” he answered. “What? Are you sure? Forward it to me. Thanks, Baylor.”

He swiped at his phone for a minute until he saw what it was he’d asked to be forwarded to him and he sighed, showing the phone to DiNozzo.

“What?” Tony plucked the phone from Baez’s fingers, did a double take and held it close up to his face, as if it would look different if he took a closer look at it. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Commander?” Rachel spoke first.

Tony looked up at them, his green eyes clouded with confusion. “The private investigator gave my file to my father’s attorney, and the attorney just sent me an email that Baylor just brought to my attention.”

“Can this be true?” Baez wondered.

“Fuck if I know. Probably just be a fuckton of debts that he saddled me with now,” Tony snarled.

“What just happened?” Gibbs asked.

Tony thrust the phone back to Baez. “This email states I’m Senior’s sole beneficiary,” he grunted.

“I thought he cut you off twenty years ago,” McCloud looked confused.

“ _I_ certainly thought so,” Tony growled. “Fucking _hell_. So now I have to go to the stupid reading of the will?”

“No quick jaunts to New York City. That’s going to have to wait until Jonas says you’re cleared for travel, Bandit. No arguments, no bargaining,” Baez told him.

“But…”

“No buts,” Baez stood and glared at the people in the room. “Do you have anything further for Commander DiNozzo, Agent Gibbs?”

Gibbs shook his head. He could tell that Baez wanted to give his Commander some privacy now. Some time to take in this new development that Tony’s estranged father had apparently written him back into his will.

“Doc, you stay. The rest of us, we’re clearing out now,” Baez declared. “ _Vámonos_.”

Gibbs watched as Baez efficiently herded everyone out the door and left Rachel – the doctor, Kate’s sister – in the house with the Commander. McCloud stood guard at the door, giving Baez a grim nod. Gibbs could tell that they had been maintaining a guard at their Commander’s door, probably 24/7, even though they were on base because they hadn’t liked the fact that Army had ‘lost’ him for weeks and he had returned to them not in the condition they had let him go.

“How long is he going to stand for that?” Gibbs asked as Baez walked he and Kate to their car.

Baez rolled his eyes. “We won’t get away with it for much longer.”

“With what?” Kate asked, genuinely curious and obviously missing the point.

Baez jerked his head at McCloud.

“Oh. The sentry thing. Why, exactly, are you watching him?” Kate asked, still curious.

“Because he won’t let us do anything else,” Baez huffed out. “He should still be in the hospital but he always escapes. It’s just safer for him and easier for us to contain him here and make sure someone has eyes on him.”

“Good luck with that,” Gibbs grinned at the words. Even though he knew he should be concerned about Tony’s health, he was glad still to hear that the man was still keeping people on their toes. Tony seemed like someone who was too spirited to be contained for too long. “Take care, Chief.”

“Gunny,” the big man nodded and waited until Gibbs and Kate had gotten in the car and started driving off before Gibbs saw the man slide into his own vehicle.

On their way back to the Navy Yard, Kate looked thoughtful.

“He’s my sister’s patient,” she finally murmured.

Gibbs sighed in exasperation. Hadn’t they talked about this? Kate was not to spread any information or rumors or what have you about the man. Gibbs didn’t even want to know what kind of regulations they had broken by learning not just that Tony was in therapy, but who his therapist was.

“No, no,” she hastily amended when she heard Gibbs’ sigh. “I don’t mean that as an insult. And I certainly wouldn’t say anything to anyone about it. I’m just… surprised, I guess?”

“Why?”

“Because, you know, he just didn’t seem to be someone who would have a therapist. Who would even _consider_ speaking to one.”

Gibbs rolled his eyes. “He’s an amputee still on active duty, even if he’s not in the field, Kate. Do you think the SEALs would have done that without making sure that he’s mentally as well as physically fit?”

Kate sighed and shook her head. “I suppose not.”

“Well,” Gibbs bit back the ‘duh’ that threatened to come out. He didn’t want to impede what looked to be some kind of forward progress with Kate.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t have to remind you not to talk about this, do I?” Gibbs growled.

“No, of course not. This has no bearing on the case.”

“Besides, if you do anything to upset the Commander, I am fairly sure that this time McCloud and Baez will make you regret it.”

“I know.”

“But only if they get to you before I do.”

“I understand.”

The tone was uncharacteristically cooperative and Gibbs gave her a sharp glance, but he couldn’t see any signs of dissembling so he decided to let it lie. Maybe Kate was finally learning to see past her first impression of Commander DiNozzo and Chief Baez. Maybe she wasn’t going to judge every member of the Navy SEALs based on whatever preconception it was that she had in her head. Gibbs hoped so, because in spite of it all, he liked Kate. She was a good agent, when she focused on the case and stopped letting her emotions and preconceptions guide her. He didn’t really relish the thought of training new members of the team, or the revolving door of agents that came and went from the MCRT before Kate had joined the team. He really hoped that she was turning over a new leaf. Or, maybe she was just having a quiet day. Gibbs would keep an eye on her to see how they progressed but now he felt that there was some hope for her.

The MCRT was swept into another case soon after Gibbs and Kate got back from Little Creek, so Gibbs didn’t have too much time on his hands to worry about how Commander DiNozzo was doing. And Kate seemed to be behaving and keeping her word about not gossiping about the Commander’s condition or state of mind. Gibbs made sure to keep tabs on that. But Gibbs did continue to worry about the man. The only thing he ended up doing was send a short text, expressing his condolences for the loss of the Commander’s father. He realized that DiNozzo would probably get a new phone with a new number and never retrieve the messages from the phone he had lost, but he felt better after sending the one text. Even though it was short and inadequate, and probably more than a little bit awkward, at least he had done something. And that was what allowed him to stop worrying about Tony long enough to grab a few hours of sleep at night.

But a couple of days later, he received a text.

_DiNozzo: Thx for checking in. Appreciate it._

Gibbs stared at the message for long minutes, for a moment not comprehending that Tony had texted him back. And then it finally struck home. Tony was texting him again! From what looked to be his old number. Tony was getting the messages he’d sent while he’d been in captivity and had received the note of condolence Gibbs had sent, even though he’d thought DiNozzo would never actually see it.

It took him a few minutes to figure out what to write back, typing and deleting several messages before he settled for a neutral, albeit probably lame response.

_Me: How are you doing?_

_DiNozzo: Fine. The guys finally gave me a replacement phone_.

 _Me: They’re looking out for you_.

_DiNozzo: Also, no mas IV. Yay!_

_Me: Don’t rush it_.

 _DiNozzo: I’m fine_.

 _Me: It’s OK to not be fine_.

 _DiNozzo: Whatevs_  
_DiNozzo: Mostly I’m confused_.

_Me: About what?_

_DiNozzo: Y Senior was looking 4 me. Y now. Y I’m back in the will_.  
_DiNozzo: He made it clear I was nothing to him that last time we spoke_.  
_DiNozzo: I don’t get it_

_Me: Maybe he regretted what happened with you?_

_DiNozzo: Pls. He just wanted something from me. Only possibility_.

 _Me: Maybe you’ll be surprised_.  
_Me: What did he leave you?_

 _DiNozzo: Debts, probably_.  
_DiNozzo: Memorial n will reading next week. I’ll know then_.  
_DiNozzo: Sorry to dump this on you_.

 _Me: It’s fine_.  
_Me: I’m just glad you’re back and not too busted up_.

 _DiNozzo: :) Ha_.  
_DiNozzo: A few weeks in captivity’s not enough to keep a SEAL down_.

Gibbs couldn’t help but smile at that and thank his lucky stars that that was true.

_Me: Hooyah_

_DiNozzo: Can it be?_  
_DiNozzo: The sky is falling!_  
_DiNozzo: A jarhead just said Hooyah!_  
_DiNozzo: The world must be ending!!_

_Me: Har di har har_  
_Me: Fucking wise ass_  
_Me: You need a head slap_

_DiNozzo: :) :)_  
_DiNozzo: Abby’s told me about the infamous ‘Gibbs slaps’ you dole out to Agents Todd and little McNerd_

_Me: Only when they deserve it_

_DiNozzo: :) :)_  
_DiNozzo: We have better ways to discipline SEALs_

_Me: I’m not legally allowed to try to drown them like you bullfrogs do_

_DiNozzo: ROFL. True_.  
_DiNozzo: More’s the pity_.  
_DiNozzo: There’s a lot 2b said about how SEALs do things_

Gibbs snorted at that because he did agree. He’d heard about some of the ways SEALs disciplined each other and neither of his agents would be able to survive it. While he would defend to the death the supremacy of the Marines over the SEALs, neither of his agents were either and the SEALs were incredibly creative when it came to punitive measures.

Gibbs was very encouraged by the resumption of their texting relationship but he decided he would wait to approach the man to ask him out for a drink. After all, he’d just been given back his phone and had his IV removed. He was probably still supposed to be on bedrest and he didn’t want to incur the wrath of Baez, Baylor, McCloud or any of Tony’s men if he were seen to be encouraging Tony to go against his medic’s advice. So Gibbs would wait a few weeks, until Tony was healthier, until his men were ready to allow him to resume his normal life, before he would screw up the courage to ask the man out for a drink. Maybe even dinner. He had even picked out the perfect place – a small bar that wasn’t too classy or too dive-y, served decently made food yet had an eclectic menu. He thought it would be a place Tony might appreciate, if he didn’t already know about it. It was one of the places that Cassie’s wife had suggested for one of his and Cassie’s after work meetings and discussions on Cassie’s soon to be new team as well as how to improve the MCRT. Gibbs found that for once, he was enjoying engaging in discussion on how to better his team. Cassie was not judgmental and easy to speak to, and he liked having her as a partner rather than a subordinate. He thought that she would do an incredible job taking over for Carson when he retired and he was hoping that they would be able to continue this relationship that they had, and maybe he would be able to help Cassie out as much as she was helping him out, given that he did know the members of Carson’s team and how they worked. Hopefully it would help both his own team and Cassie’s new team, and on the whole, better the quality of investigative work that NCIS as a whole, would do here at the Navy Yard.

And if somewhere in there Gibbs managed to take Tony out for a drink, too, well, then he certainly would be happy about that. But work came first and the MCRT caught another case, and they were shorthanded again since Kate had had to head back to FLETC for the remainder of her refresher courses. So Gibbs was kept quite busy for the next few days.

It was about a week after they had gone down to Little Creek to speak to Commander DiNozzo when Abby informed him that he, Gibbs, was going to accompany her the next day, to Tony’s father’s memorial service.

“In New York?” Gibbs asked.

“Of course not,” Abby rolled her eyes. “His father’s attorneys decided to have the memorial service and will reading here in DC since Senior seemed to have done a lot of business here and had a lot of contacts here. Tony still hasn’t been cleared to travel to New York.”

Gibbs sighed. “Fine,” he agreed. His reluctance stemmed from not wanting Tony to feel as if he were being crowded or forced to interact with people he didn’t want to interact with.

“Don’t worry,” Abby reassured him, as if she were reading his mind. “Tony’s going to need all of the support he can get. I’m pretty sure his father’s ‘business partners’ will be a shady bunch of sleazeballs, if they’re anything like what we learned Senior was like.”

Gibbs nodded. That was true. DiNozzo would definitely welcome Abby. He was also glad that they were doing this in DC so that as many of DiNozzo’s men who could come, would do so, boosting his moral support team. So the next day, he had an appropriately respectful dark suit on and Abby was in her Gothic princess regalia, definitely fit for a funeral, and they walked into a brightly lit reception room at the Adams House hotel. Of course DiNozzo Senior’s people would hold the memorial at the man’s favorite hotel in DC. Gibbs tried not to roll his eyes at the unnecessary opulence of the venue.

There were a lot of men dressed in expensive suits and their equally well dressed spouses, what looked to be an entourage dressed in traditional Middle Eastern garb, and a whole ton of men and women in their Service Dress Blues. Apparently, Commander DiNozzo was quite popular not just within his own SEAL Team, but Gibbs could tell there were SEALs from other teams along with regular sailors, Marines and even some high ranking US Navy folk, including a couple of Admirals were in attendance. Gibbs felt a little naked and exposed in his suit and would have felt more at home in his own dress blues, but he hadn’t wanted to show up at work in his uniform or take the time to change in the middle of the day to come for this. So he stood there, squared his shoulders and took in the room, Abby on his arm.

Gibbs spotted Baez first. He was easily half a head taller than anyone else in the room. He caught the man’s eye and gave him a brief nod, which the Chief returned solemnly. Gibbs saw them now, Baez, McCloud, Baylor, and several more of DiNozzo’s SEALs were practically in formation around him. They weren’t overtly barricading him against others around them, but they were certainly intimidating enough that the people who had been his father’s acquaintances or business associates or friends shook his hand, exchanged a few words, and left without too much fanfare. It was inappropriate but it did make Gibbs want to snicker at how much Tony and his men intimidated his late father’s questionable business associates.

Gibbs drank in the sight of Tony on his feet again. He was walking with the help of a cane even though it looked like he was wearing a prosthetic leg today. Gibbs frowned at that. Wasn’t the man supposed to stay off the prosthetics for several weeks due to the burns he’d suffered?

Abby dragged him over to the men, a sympathetic smile on her face. She carefully pulled Tony into a long hug and a huge pang of jealousy went through Gibbs went he saw that after a moment of stiffness, Tony relaxed into the hug. He gingerly wrapped an arm around Abby and closed his eyes. Gibbs couldn’t help but wish that he was the one that Tony was wrapping an arm around and leaning into with a soft sigh. But at the same time, he was also glad that Tony was taking the comfort that Abby was offering because Abby gave the best hugs. He would know. He was often the recipient of such a warm and loving gift.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Abby murmured.

Tony thanked her softly.

Finally after they pulled away, Abby punched him in the arm, although Gibbs could tell that not only did Abby not punch him on the arm that was holding the cane, but it was the gentlest punch he’d ever seen Abby give. Abby was one of those people whose punches were surprisingly strong, normally.

“Idiot! I thought Jonas told you no leg until the burns were fully healed?” she whispered angrily.

Tony gave her a guilty grin. “Just for this thing. A temporary loaner leg. Then I promised Jonas that their favorite gimpy Commander will be back.”

“No talking about yourself in that way, mister,” she shook her head. Then she turned to Baez, McCloud and Baylor who were standing by them. “And you guys are complicit with this?”

“He made a compelling argument for it,” Mac sighed.

“Once we get back to our vehicle, it’ll come right off,” Baez said grimly.

Abby rolled her eyes, sniffing at the fact that Tony’s SEALs had caved to his demands. But she still smiled at Tony and gave him another hug. She was genuinely fond of the Commander.

Tony sighed. “Thanks for coming, Abs, Gibbs.”

Gibbs gave him a nod and couldn’t help but smile at him. “Good to see you on your feet again, Commander.”

Tony rolled his eyes. As if a mere few weeks of captivity and torture by enemy combatants would be that much of a problem, his expression seemed to say. Abby hugged all of Tony’s men that she was friends with and Gibbs found himself being introduced to a bunch more of Tony’s SEALs and then he stood by, nodding grimly every time someone came up to DiNozzo and spoke to him about how much they would miss his father, and what a wonderful man he had been, and how much he resembled his father. DiNozzo caught Gibbs’ eye after one of these well dressed, wealthy looking people had gushed about his father to him and rolled his eyes.

Gibbs’ lips quirked up into a small smirk.

A young man, probably still in his late teens, dressed in an Army Service Uniform and beret marched up and saluted Tony. Gibbs wondered who he was since he seemed to be the only Army man here.

“Commander,” he greeted Tony crisply.

“Greenie!” Tony’s smile was bright and genuine and he returned the salute, and the young army man blushed and smiled back.

“It’s Private Lobell, sir.”

Tony snorted.

“I’m here to extend my condolences for your loss, sir.”

“Thank you,” Tony’s smile saddened. “I appreciate you coming by. You’re not AWOL, are you?”

The private rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I’m still on leave for another week. I ship out next week.”

“And you’re doing OK?”

“Yes, sir,” The young private nodded. “I never got to thank you for saving my life, sir.”

“Pssh,” Tony rolled his eyes. “I told you my men would come get us.”

“You did, sir.”

“And…?”

“And you were right, sir.” Lobell shook hands with Baez, Baylor, McCloud and a bunch of others, who all clapped his back. Gibbs understood who this kid was then. He must have been the one captured with Tony all those weeks ago. Gibbs couldn’t help but scrutinize him then. He looked to be in much better shape than Tony. It did seem as if Tony had taken the brunt of the torture. It would make sense. He would have been the one with more classified intelligence to divulge, not the young private. And Cassie had said he had tried to protect the kid, as much as he could.

“Thanks for coming by, Greenie,” Tony smiled at the kid. “You did good. And you’ll always remember, right?”

“Wicked is not good, Geezer.”

Tony laughed at that cryptic remark, and clapped the kid’s back. “Good man, Greenie.”

The private melted away into the crowd, probably uncomfortable at the strong Navy and Marine presence.

They stood and listened to a couple of people speak, one of DiNozzo Senior’s business associates gave a moving eulogy, and Tony stood tall and impassive. He himself did not speak. And the uniformed SEALs flanking him were intimidating enough that Senior’s attorney would not dare to pressure him into anything. Finally it was over and people were starting to leave. Abby was now hanging off of McCloud’s arm so Gibbs sidled up to Tony.

“You want to maybe grab a drink at the bar with me?” Gibbs whispered in Tony’s ear.

“Now?”

Gibbs nodded.

Tony gave him a grateful smile. “Sure.”

“No alcohol,” Baez intoned, surprising Gibbs. The man had some sharp ears. Maybe that was why he was called Lobo, the wolf.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

Baez switched to battle hand signals, signaling that he was watching his Commander, and he scowled when Tony flipped him the bird as he limped away. Gibbs glanced back and saw Baez making a pumping action with his hand. Gibbs gave him a nod. He got the message. Baez was threatening to shoot him with a shotgun if the Commander wasn’t returned to him in the same condition he left.

But before long, they were sitting at one of the tall tables in the Adams House Hotel bar. Gibbs had a coffee and Tony ordered a hot chocolate. Gibbs couldn’t help but smile at the sight before him. Even though he’d been through so much recently, Tony DiNozzo was still an incredibly attractive man, especially all decked out in his Service Dress Blues, his ribbons on display, his rank displayed boldly on his sleeve. And he couldn’t help but pat himself on the back for finally asking him out for a drink and for Tony actually saying yes to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is my birthday and I wanted to thank my QueeneoftheDeer and jesco0307 for remembering it in your comments in the previous chapter! Thank you!!! You guys are the best. My Queene, does this chapter get me a virtual donut? If so I am a fan of chocolate, the darker the better! :D Also thanks to those of you who emailed me or sent me messages and goodies today. You guys are truly amazing. Thank you so much <3 <3 <3
> 
> Tomorrow, the epilogue, in Tony's POV. The story is almost over :D
> 
> But hey, Gibbs actually gets to buy Tony a drink unchaperoned! How about that??? :P
> 
> A couple links you guys might find interesting:  
> * Where I found a bunch of information on battle hand signals: <http://wildernessarena.com/environment/signaling/standard-military-hand-arm-signals-visual-signaling>  
> * Information on US Army uniforms: <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uniforms_of_the_United_States_Army#Standard_uniforms>
> 
> I'm behind again in replying to comments but I do read them all and appreciate all of them! I will be catching up as soon as I can!
> 
> Hope you liked this chapter and I'll see you all tomorrow! <3
> 
> -j  
> xoxo


	10. Part Seven: Tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the final chapter! We're back in Tony's POV again for this one :D I know I said Epilogue yesterday but the chapter started out a short Epilogue, but ended up growing and growing until it's not really an epilogue but an actual chapter. So it's not the epilogue. Just the last chapter. :)
> 
> *whew* *sighs* I'm tired. I'm off to take a nap now! :D

**Part Seven: Tony**

Tony smirked at Baez, casually flipping him the bird as he and Gibbs walked away. He barely caught the threatening gesture Baez had made to Gibbs and had to smother an inappropriate snicker. Baez knew what kind of men he liked and was apparently already warning Gibbs not to fuck things up. He couldn’t help but feel warmth flood through him. Baez always looked out for him. He was truly a brother to Tony.

He nodded politely to his father’s friends, and other stragglers as Gibbs led him out of the room and they made their way to the bar. He couldn’t help but sigh in relief when they finally sat at an absurdly high table. He was glad that this stupid thing was over and he could go back to base soon. He hadn’t wanted to even come to the memorial, but his father’s attorney had been adamant that it ‘wouldn’t look good’ if Tony wasn’t there, and had ensured to let not only his men know about the memorial, but also his superiors. In the end, Tony didn’t want to make a fuss and refuse to attend when he’d never been incredibly vocal with people he didn’t trust about his nonexistent relationship with his father. So there he was. But he refused to show up with crutches and no prosthetic. He knew the kind of men his father used to pal around with – they would absolutely jump on him if they saw his disability. These people were cutthroat, and they would try to take advantage of him if he showed any signs of weakness. There was no way he would allow any of them to have that kind of leverage over him, especially since it had become common knowledge that Senior had left his one estranged child everything, including his business. Tony had no desire to be an easy target for these vultures.

In the end, Jonas had had to concede because they all knew that there was no way Tony would allow himself to look so vulnerable in front of people who had been friends with his bastard of a father. So Jonas had, against his own better judgment, as he’d so vocally complained, allowed him the use of a basic prosthetic. Not one that was custom fitted and high tech like his old one, but a simple, lightweight one that his dress pants and shoes would hide. It was one of the ones that wouldn’t put too much pressure on the area of amputation, unlike his custom fitted one, and he would require a cane to minimize the weight he would put on the temporary prosthetic. But it still hurt like the dickens and Tony already knew that it was going to be a bad day of phantom pains and actual pain once he had the luxury of allowing himself to feel it.

They ordered – Gibbs went with the proverbial coffee, and Tony decided on a hot chocolate. He was at his father’s memorial service. He was allowed to have a nice, comforting, hot chocolate. With whipped cream. And marshmallows.

“Still on meds?” Gibbs asked.

The man was sharp, Tony would give him that. Baez had warned him off alcohol for a reason.

“Oh, they had to drug me somewhat so I can keep the prosthetic on,” Tony sighed as he carefully kneaded his bad leg. Sitting relieved the pressure but god, it was starting to hurt. “You headed back to work after this?”

Gibbs nodded.

They sipped their drinks for a moment, and Tony let his eyes drift, not really looking at anything, finally letting his gaze settle on traffic flowing by outside the windows. He kept kneading his bad leg because apparently sitting down and relaxing was the signal for his body to start feeling the pain. He took in a big inhale and blew his breath out slowly, trying to work on his pain management techniques.

“They did the will reading this morning,” he told Gibbs absently, his eyes still staring out the window. He didn’t exactly know why he was telling Gibbs all of these things, but he’d always been a sucker for blue eyes.

“Yeah?” Gibbs tone was careful.

Tony made a face. “Apparently the old man was on an upswing. He left me everything and it’s more than I anticipated. A lot more, in fact.”

Gibbs sighed. “You don’t look happy about it.”

“I want nothing from the man,” Tony said bluntly. “And the Arabs that were in there today? Some Saudi prince my father did business with. He told me to call him ‘Al’,” he grimaced. “Al. Can you _imagine_?” he shook his head in disbelief.

“Huh,” Gibbs grimaced at that.

“It seems that Father had been in business with _Al_ right before he died. And apparently he’s going to honor the deal and send my father’s estate the rest of what had been owed? Something about some land or real estate deal. It’s the thing that Father had been disputing with Lieutenant Massey before they both died.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, so anyway, despite Father and Massey dying, the deal went through and Al is going to make sure I get what my father had _earned_ ,” he couldn’t help the sneer twisting his mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

Tony shrugged, turning to look back at Gibbs. “It’s just so weird.”

Gibbs nodded.

“Sorry,” Tony sighed. He was obsessing about this too much. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around the idea that I’ve outlived my father. It’s just… I just find it hard to believe. That he’s really gone. And I’m still here.”

Gibbs reached across the table slowly, and gently squeezed Tony’s hand.

“It’s just not how I expected this to go, you know?” Tony continued. Gibbs’ fingers were warm on Tony’s hand. His touch was reassuring and comforting.

“I do know,” Gibbs told him. “My first wife and my daughter… they both died while I was deployed. First Gulf War. Murdered.”

Tony’s eyes widened and he stared at Gibbs. He’d known about the three ex wives. And he remembered that Gibbs had told him about that case he’d had that involved an ex-wife, and her other ex-husband, the Feebie. And possibly a third husband for that ex? The details were fuzzy right now. Even the non-loopiness inducing drugs tended to make the world fuzzy for him. But hell, everyone knew that Gibbs had three ex-wives. Rumors were that one of them had even taken a nine iron to the bastard’s head. But he hadn’t known that Gibbs had had a wife that died. And even worse, a dead, murdered daughter.

“Oh, fuck. I’m sorry…” he started to say.

Gibbs waved it away. “It’s been a long time,” he said softly. “But I know what you mean. You think, you’re the one putting yourself in harm’s way. You’re the one out there facing bullets and enemy combatants and sometimes, terrible conditions, but you do it because you’re working to keep your family, your loved ones safe at home. You’ve accepted the fact that you might not make it home alive, but you take comfort in the knowledge that what you’re doing is keeping them safe. And you’ve made peace with the fact that odds are, you _will_ die before they do. They’re safe at home, going to school, doing normal things, living a quiet life, just _living_ , while you’re halfway around the world shooting at people and having people shoot at you with live bullets. You expect you’ll die first. It’s a logical assumption. So then, when my family was killed, everything stopped making sense.” Gibbs’ blue eyes were sad. “It just isn’t _right_. They died when they were supposed to be safe at home here. And I didn’t. It took me a while to figure shit out. Wrap my head around it. Probably still pretty fucked up because of it. Because I’m still alive now and it’s been almost twenty years and they’re still dead. So yeah. I get it.”

Tony nodded. It was exactly how he felt, but a whole lot less tragic than what had happened to Gibbs. But it was true. He’d expected to die before his father. Hell, a big part of him always felt like he’d only enlisted so he could get killed in action and then his father would be the one to mourn his only son. Like it would be some kind of revenge on his father, to punish him for a son he’d thrown away and thought would never amount to anything. Gibbs’ hand was still gently grasping his, and he squeezed Gibbs’ fingers back.

“I thought that one day when I died for my country, it would make Father sorry he threw me away,” he told Gibbs. He didn’t know what it was about this blue eyed marine that made him open up to him so much.

“Man like your father would have never seen it that way,” Gibbs told him softly.

“I know that. In my head. I know that. He would’ve thought I deserved it for enlisting,” Tony couldn’t help the sad chuckle. “He wouldn’t have seen it as a service to my country. He would’ve thought I was stupid and was asking for it.”

“It’ll get better,” Gibbs looked so incredibly sympathetic that Tony had to look away.

“It’s so stupid,” Tony sighed.

“It’s not stupid. Don’t forget that he was looking for you at the end there,” Gibbs’ voice was reassuring. “He was finally starting to see what it was he’d lost. I’d give everything to have my daughter back alive. He was a fucking idiot to throw away the gift of a child. I know what losing one feels like and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy and he voluntarily did it.”

Tony nodded, and his eyes filled. He sniffed and tried to get himself under control. No sense crying in a bar when he wasn’t even drunk. Besides, DiNozzos didn’t cry. Even if they were the only Tony DiNozzo left in the world.

“Are you going to do anything with your inheritance?” Gibbs asked, changing the subject.

Tony shrugged, giving Gibbs a grateful look for steering the conversation away from his morose train of thought. He took a deep breath and blinked his tears away.

“Probably donate it all to charity?” he pursed his lips. “Maybe to some organization for disabled veterans? Maybe set up some educational scholarships for SEAL kids. But only after I make sure Spencer never has to worry about how to pay for college and grad school. I’m his godfather, after all.”

“He left you _that_ much?”

Tony snorted. “I know, right? I saw your background check on Senior. He’d been bankrupt how many times before this? He’s messed up and his financials are some serious bad news. God knows if any of this money was even earned legally. He wasn’t what you would call an ethical business man. I can’t touch a dime of it for myself without wanting to throw up.” Of course, Tony decided to keep to himself the money from his mother’s side of the family. His mother had left him a fortune that she had kept secret, even from his father, and he’d been informed of it when he turned thirty-five. His grandparents, had also left him money, adding it to his mother’s secret trust account. His uncle Clive, had as well. In the end, the Paddingtons had left him very well off, and he was set for life. But at the time, he couldn’t care less about money. He was busy in the field, doing his duty, serving and protecting his country. Busy living life to the fullest with his beloved brothers. All he’d done was set up a trust fund for Spencer but he hadn’t done anything else with the money, too busy to care about it. But that money didn’t come with a burden of guilt and misery, unlike Senior’s largesse, so he’d figured he would use it when he retired, if he made it that long.

But yeah, he didn’t want to touch a cent of his father’s money. The plan was definitely going to be to give it all away. He was going to sell his father’s business, liquidate the investments, and give all of it away, and hopefully some good would come of it. It wasn’t as if he needed the money. Hell, even if he hadn’t received so much from his maternal side, he wouldn’t ever _need_ Senior’s money. He would rather die in the gutter alone than touch any of it.

“Well, it’s good that you’re putting it to good use then,” Gibbs murmured supportively.

Tony gave him a grin. “But what about you? What fun new cases have you been embroiled in? Get to shoot any exes in the ass yet?”

Gibbs snorted and rolled his eyes. “I wish,” he shook his head. “Can’t complain, I guess.”

“Only easy day was yesterday,” Tony gave him the old SEAL adage.

“Ain’t that the truth.”

“Kind of wished you’d turned up in your dress blues,” Tony couldn’t help but grin at him then. “I would have enjoyed that.” He looked Gibbs up and down appraisingly, and he couldn’t help but be delighted when the older man actually blushed.

“I kind of wished that, too, after I saw how many were in uniform today,” Gibbs made a face. “Made me feel a little naked, I gotta say.”

“Is _that_ so, Jarhead?” Tony gave him an amused look, which made Gibbs blush even harder. And Tony had to wonder, how far down did the blush go? Would his chest be ruddy as well? Because a naked Gibbs had to be a pretty sight. He was a foxy marine. A silver fox, sure, but a fox nonetheless.

“You’re looking better,” Gibbs’ pretty blue eyes looked him up and down.

Tony couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed at that. “I know. I was kind of a mess last week.”

“You weren’t,” Gibbs assured him, still squeezing his hand.

“No?”

“You’ve been through a lot.”

Tony shrugged. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Gibbs nodded. He finally pulled his hand away and sipped his coffee. “Thanks for texting me and letting me know you’re OK.”

Tony smiled. “Thanks for checking in on me even while I was on the op.”

Gibbs’ smile was soft and adorable. Tony couldn’t even believe the man. He was so gruff and curmudgeonly, but he seemed to have a soft spot for Tony. He didn’t know what was going on between them, but hell something sure seemed to be brewing. Gibbs had texted him back, and he’d enjoyed their little text conversations.

There came a soft whistle, and Tony turned to look in the direction it had come from. It was one of their team’s signals, a whistle that would blend in with the night sounds. Baez was there, already frowning at him. Tony looked at his watch and sighed. It was time to go. Unless he wanted to be given a second dose of the painkillers. And besides, Baez had threatened to give him the loopy kind. He nodded to Baez, acknowledging him.

“My asshole babysitters are here,” he told Gibbs.

The marine nodded. “Thanks for having a drink with me.”

“Thanks for the drink,” Tony gave him a small smile.

“Maybe when you’re better, I can… maybe take you out to dinner?” Gibbs’ blue eyes were hopeful.

Tony’s heart started to beat faster in his chest and his face creased into a smile. Oh yeah. The silver fox Agent Gibbs _was_ interested in him in a more than friendly way. “I’d like that,” he told the agent, beaming at him.

Gibbs reached over and squeezed his hand again. “Then I hope you get better soon,” Gibbs was _definitely_ flirting with him now. “So you won’t make me wait too long.”

Tony grinned at him. “I’ll do my best.”

“That means no more excursions until your medics clear you,” Gibbs’ tone was stern.

“Don’t even… I have enough minders,” Tony jerked his head at his Chief who was already signaling impatiently with his hands.

“I am sorry about your father, Tony,” Gibbs said.

Tony nodded. “Thank you,” he said, solemn again, even though he really liked that Gibbs had used his first name instead of his last name or his rank. He pushed himself upright, gripping his cane securely. “See you soon, Leroy.”

Gibbs’ eyes narrowed. “Don’t make me have to beat you up,” he threatened. Tony was almost sure he was teasing.

“As if you can take down a SEAL,” Tony snarked back.

Gibbs’ answering smile was brilliant. They nodded to each other and Tony walked to where Baez was waiting.

“Don’t look now, but the Gunny is definitely checking out your ass,” Baez mumbled softly when he got there.

“Really?” Tony arched an eyebrow.

“Think you’ve got an admirer.”

“Good. Because he just asked me out.”

Tony turned and gave Gibbs a quick wave before he limped off with Baez. It was time to get in the car and take the leg off, and maybe, maybe take the good pain meds because fuck, it was really starting to hurt now.

“I knew it,” Baez crowed. “I knew he was your type. He was already sniffing around you, even from the start. And now, McCloud owes me twenty bucks.”

“What did Mac bet on?”

“That you’d make the first move.”

“Fuck that! He’s the one who made the first move! _He_ asked me out!”

“I know that. It’s what I told Mac would happen, and I won the bet,” Baez chuckled. “Although picking up dudes at a funeral? Not so classy.”

Tony stuck his tongue out at Baez as the big man laughed at him. Luckily for Tony’s leg, they didn’t have to walk far. Tony was grateful that Baez didn’t help him into the SUV. Mac and Jonas were waiting for them in Mac’s Hummer. And when Baez handed him the good painkillers in the car, he took them with a grateful sigh and even allowed Baez to help take the prosthetic off of him. He’d be well into la la land before long. And even though things were weird, and he was filled with a deep sadness that his father had died, and they had never reconciled, he was still surrounded by his family. He let the voices of Baez, Mac and Jonas wash over him, comforting him with their presence, and he let himself drift off, now that the pain was beginning to numb. He’d be on his feet and fighting fit again, soon. There was no way he would just lay down and let this setback be the end of his career.

Even though his father had never been able to appreciate him, and would never appreciate him now that he was gone, Tony had been able to build a good life for himself, without any help from a man who couldn’t see what Tony was worth. He’d made himself a new family with the SEALs. Baez was a brother to him, closer to him than any of the other guys, but everyone was family at this point. They were all taking care of him, even though he was a pain in the ass when he was healthy and even worse when he was sick or injured. He loved the SEALs and they loved him back, and this was the kind of family that he’d longed for throughout his childhood. Now that he had it, he would never let it go, and even though his father had looked to be trying to reconcile with him or at least make contact with him before he’d gone and gotten himself killed, in the end, Tony knew that he would be OK with how things turned out. Doctor C was right. Nothing, really, had changed. So Tony would at least work towards being OK with everything.

And he couldn’t help but look forward to the prospect of a dinner with the very handsome Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Even if his name did make him giggle. Because Gibbs _had_ made the first move. He’d been the one to give Tony his cell phone number, and offered to buy him a drink all those months ago. He’d texted to check in with him when he’d gone missing. And today, Gibbs had asked him to what amounted to a coffee… thing. Was it a date? He wasn’t sure. But Gibbs had held his hand. So by grade school standards, maybe it was a date? But Gibbs had also asked him out to dinner. So take that, Mac. Gibbs made the first move. Gibbs had made _all_ the first moves. End of story. And there was a warm feeling in his heart as he let go and leaned his head on Baez’s solid shoulder, starting to feel woozy and sleepy. He sighed. He was strangely content. At least this time he wasn’t so high that he was just running his mouth.

“Yeah, you are, Bandit,” Baez patted his head gently. “Sleep now. Shhhh…”

Oh. So maybe he was still running his mouth but just too drugged out to even notice. Whatever. He didn’t even care. He was exactly where he was supposed to be. And he was very good with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the story is done! I hope you enjoyed this final chapter. :D I'm overwhelmed by the response that this story has gotten so far, so thank you. You guys are the best. And also thank you for all of the lovely birthday wishes. You are the bestest fandom ever ❤️❤️. Thank you!
> 
> So the story was absolutely inspired by Demi Lovato's song, [Father](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZR1U6gpFSXg). I wept the first few times I listened to this performance of it. And then I went into a frenzy of writing this sequel, which I'd kind of batted about in my head a little. I had had a few ideas but then after the song I knew it had to be a story with Senior. So I re-watched several of the Senior episodes and I chose to build the sequel around s09xe10 Sins of the Father. And this was what the muse came up with. The title of this story came from the lyrics of the song, and I ended up choosing it because I felt that pretty much everyone whose POV we saw in this story had some kind of war within them.
> 
> Here are some links to websites that I referenced:  
> * [Transcript of s09xe10 Sins of the Father](https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=ncis&episode=s09e10)  
> * [US Navy SEAL Weapons](https://www.tactical-life.com/exclusives/weapons-of-the-us-navy-seals/)  
> * [Wiki on US Navy SEALs](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_Navy_SEALs)  
> * [Wiki on US Navy Uniforms](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uniforms_of_the_United_States_Navy)  
> * [Wiki on US Army Uniforms](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uniforms_of_the_United_States_Army#Standard_uniforms)  
> * [Military/Battle Hand Signals](http://wildernessarena.com/environment/signaling/standard-military-hand-arm-signals-visual-signaling)
> 
> I also tried to insert some US Navy and US Navy SEAL terminology in the story, the links as are follows:  
> * [Shit Navy SEALs say](https://sofrep.com/2459/shit-navy-seals-say/)  
> * [Navy SEALs slang](https://navydads.ning.com/forum/topics/navy-seals-slang)  
> * [Glossary of US Navy slang](https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/Appendix:Glossary_of_U.S._Navy_slang)
> 
> At the end of the first story, some of you asked for a sequel in which you wanted to see at least the texting and a date. So, I think we can check off texting, right? And kind of a date? Does a coffee date after Senior's funeral count as a date? I think it does. It wasn't chaperoned and everything! :P
> 
> Anyway, you guys are truly truly amazing. Thank you for all the support that you've given me for this and other stories. Thanks for the kudos, comments, bookmarks, subscriptions, etc. I'm behind on replying to comments but you know I will catch up! Thank you for the lovely response to this story. You took my breath away :D
> 
> And to smoxen who started this whole thing with [this ridiculously hot photo](https://www.cbs.com/shows/watch_magazine/photos/1007232/michael-weatherly-is-one-of-the-hottest-men-on-television/118803/easy-rider/) as a prompt, thank you and I hope you enjoyed this sequel! ❤️
> 
> Again, thank you for all the birthday wishes. You guys totally made my day! Until the next time!  
> ❤️  
> -j  
> xoxo


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